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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26806723">Brave to Stay, Brave to Leave</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristocentricQueer/pseuds/ChristocentricQueer'>ChristocentricQueer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pastor Fell [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Author is a Trans Christian Pastor, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Bisexual Crowley (Good Omens), Botanist Crowley, Childhood Trauma, Christianity, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley yells at his plants, Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Dysphoria, Eventual Romance, Fat Shaming, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gay Aziraphale (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), HIV/AIDS, HIV/AIDS Crisis, Happy Ending, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Masturbation, No beta we fall like Crowley, Other, Pastor Aziraphale, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Sex Worker Crowley (Good Omens), Sexuality, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Theology, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Aziraphale (Good Omens), Transphobia, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:27:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>127,275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26806723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristocentricQueer/pseuds/ChristocentricQueer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Great, a pastor. Why does he have to be so bloody cute?” Crowley mumbled under his breath.</p><p>A Human AU where Crowley and Aziraphale are both in their late fifties. Crowley is gender fluid and bisexual (He/Him and She/Her). Aziraphale is a transman and gay (He/Him). Crowley is a botanist who is agnostic. Aziraphale is a Protestant pastor in a fictional denomination. They live in Tadfield, a medium sized town in the United States. Slow build with a happy ending.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pastor Fell [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>206</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I like the idea of Crowley and Aziraphale being older. Usually I see them in their 30s and 40s, so I thought it'd be fun to give them a little age boost. I, the author, am a transgender man and a Christian pastor. Good Omens and my own life experiences as a minister just seem to come together quite well. There will be some really tough stuff that gets discussed in this fic. But there will also be lots of sweet and cute things! Our darlings will have a happy ending.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had been in Tadfield for three months now. He liked the slower pace of life. It was so much different than the hustle and bustle of New York City. Forty years in the big city was plenty long enough. If someone asked him, which no one ever had, he would’ve left that life behind long ago. But his job paid so well it was hard to leave. Crowley was a botanist and researcher. He worked for pharmaceutical companies, spending his time testing out plants for their medicinal properties. Crowley wasn’t well liked personally, but his extensive body of work was beloved all over the world.</p><p>Now that he was 57, however, Crowley felt ready for a change. Money no longer was a good enough incentive to stay. He was sick of spending twelve-hour days in the lab. He was tired of the few and far between days off. He was disgusted by the pharmaceutical industry’s focus on profit. As much as Crowley liked using plants that gave people mildly unpleasant side effects, he hated the way they took advantage of people desperate for medication. One of the many parts of living in the United States that drove him insane.</p><p>He wanted to spend the rest of his working career with plants. Nurturing rare and exotic plants, helping them grow and thrive. His methods were always a little unorthodox, but he got results. His apartment was a testament to that. So when he found an opening to work with rare toxic and carnivorous plants at the Tadfield Botanical Gardens, Crowley submitted his application. Crowley was hired almost immediately. He put in his two weeks with Big Pharma Corporation, packed up his whole life, and left. Crowley didn’t look back.</p><p>Crowley found a lovely cottage with a greenhouse in the backyard. There were two bedrooms, and one was completely devoted to his extensive plant collection. No more neighbors above and below him. He didn’t have to listen to constant traffic, put up with the polluted city air.  Crowley could hear the crickets chirping, see the stars, savor the fresh air. A great place to spend the rest of his days, both working and retired.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t take long for Crowley to find his rhythm. Three days a week he worked on site. Two days he worked remotely, focusing his attention on writing and research. And, for the first time in many years, he had weekends off. On the days he didn’t go to the Gardens, Crowley spent the day at “Thanks a Latte.” They had the best coffee, although he grimaced every time he looked at the name. It was nice to get out of the house. He wasn’t really interested in talking to anyone, but he enjoyed people watching. However, people tended to watch him more than he watched them. Or, more accurately, stare.</p><p>Crowley didn’t fit the aesthetic of Tadfield. He wasn’t the cozy, moderate, plain type. Crowley was tall and lanky, all sharp edges. He had long hair down past his shoulder blades. It had become a soft, diluted shade of red with age. He wore stylish sunglasses at all times, jeans so tight that it must’ve taken a miracle to put them on, and tight black shirts. But what was most intriguing was his choice of footwear: black stiletto heels. Crowley knew he was gorgeous, and so did the people around him. He refused to let the pressures of society change the way he carried himself. He walked with confidence, his gait a mixture of a swag and sway. Who cared if he was fifty-seven? No one else seemed to.</p><p>Men and women would flirt with him on a regular basis. A vast range of ages, from folks in their twenties up to the occasional seventy and eighty-year olds. Every time he went to the coffee shop, someone would buy him a drink or a treat. Crowley would humor them, talk with them for a while and thank them. But when it came time to exchange numbers, Crowley would tell them he wasn’t interested. They didn’t need to know that another patron caught his attention.</p><p>On the days that Crowley was at the shop, another man always came in. He would faithfully arrive at 2 and stay until 5. He’d always get a tea and a dessert. The man would sit down at a table close to Crowley. He’d eat (and made rather erotic noises as he did so), drink his tea, and read until random people came and joined him. He’d sit there and listen attentively to the person. He would reach out and take their hands, smile, and speak softly to them. They always left in good spirits.</p><p>The man was fat and stocky. He had thick thighs and a round tummy. He was clean shaven and had short, soft, bright white hair. It almost looked like a halo in the right light. He had bright blue eyes, a warm smile, and a lovely round face. Crowley found his outdated wardrobe to be endearing. Waistcoats, brown trousers, stuffy dress shirts, brown oxford shoes.  It took Crowley a while to notice, but he wore a clerical collar.</p><p>“Great, a pastor. Why does he have to be so bloody cute?” Crowley mumbled under his breath.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>One afternoon, Crowley was engrossed in his sketchbook. He was busy drawing diagrams of a Cow Plant. It was one of the rarest plants in the world. In fact, Crowley had never seen one until he started working at the botanical garden. He was tasked with keeping it alive and helping it reach its full potential. Where others failed, Crowley knew he would succeed.</p><p>He was so focused that he didn’t even notice when someone sat in the chair across from him.</p><p>“Good afternoon,” a pleasant voice said.</p><p>“Ngk!” Crowley was startled. He jumped a little in his seat and almost flung his pencil across the room.</p><p>“Oh my heavens, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Please forgive me.” Crowley looked up, and much to his surprise it was the man he’d been eyeing up for months.</p><p>“S’okay. Need something?” Crowley asked.</p><p>The man blushed and wrung his hands. “Ah, no, I don’t need anything. It’s just… It’s just that I’ve noticed you here for the past few months now. We always seem to be here around the same time, and I feel quite rude that I have not introduced myself. I’m Aziraphale Fell, the pastor of the Beloved Disciples Church down the way,” Aziraphale stuck out his hand.</p><p>Crowley shook it. “Anthony J. Crowley. Call me Crowley.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley thought he looked like an angel. Aziraphale continued. “What brings you to Tadfield? It’s not a place that brings in many transplants.”</p><p>“I work at the Tadfield Botanical Gardens on the outskirts of town. I take care of the rare plants. You ever been?”</p><p>Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, yes! I often will walk with congregants around the gardens. Besides the coffee shop, it’s another place I conduct pastoral care visits.”</p><p>Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “Why don’t you use your office like a normal person?”</p><p>“Over the years, I have found that many congregants feel more comfortable when they meet with me outside of the church. They feel more able to be themselves. Also,” Aziraphale sighed, “My office can’t fit more than myself, I’m afraid. Too many books.”</p><p>“Too many books? Don’t tell me you’re a hoarder and have one path throughout your whole office,” Crowley smirked.</p><p>“I wouldn’t go that far. My office is on the small side, and, well, as you can see, I take up rather a lot of space. The shelves are full, and the loveseat in my office has become an honorary bookshelf as well… Enough about my office, I would love to hear more about you. May I ask what you’re drawing?” Aziraphale asked warmly.</p><p>Crowley handed him the sketchbook. “’S my plant anatomy drawings. It’s a way I get to know the plants better,” he traced the current sketch with his finger. Aziraphale admired Crowley’s long fingernails, painted a shiny black. “This is a Cow Plant. One of the rarest in the world. Never saw one in person until I got here.”</p><p>“Your drawings are marvelous, Crowley! If your recreation of a Cow Plant is this beautiful, I can only imagine how magnificent the real thing is.”</p><p>Crowley absolutely did not blush, no matter what anyone said to the contrary. “Thanks, Aziraphale. She is a beauty all right. Hungry bugger too. You should see how much meat she eats. Unbelievable.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Meat? Shouldn’t a Cow Plant be an herbivore?”</p><p>“Look here,” Crowley directed Aziraphale’s attention back to the plant. “Called that because it has little horns, an udder down there, and a snout. But look at this drawing here,” he flipped the page. It showed the plant’s open mouth. “Sharp teeth. Not soft and frilly like a Venus Fly Trap. They’re more like a shark. You’re not careful and it can do some serious damage. Gotta stay on top of feedings or it could be lights out for you,” Crowley grinned. Aziraphale’s face took on a look of shock. Crowley thought it was sinful to be so adorable.</p><p>“A terrifying and delightful part of God’s creation, I suppose. Truly ineffable what She does and why, isn’t it?”</p><p>Crowley felt some discomfort at Aziraphale’s response. “If you believe that sort of thing. I don’t buy it but more power to you.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “My apologies if I’ve offended you, Crowley. It is rather difficult to turn off the pastor in me. I do not thi—”</p><p>“Pastor Fell, are your coffee hours over or can you still talk?” a young woman came up to Crowley and Aziraphale’s table. She put her hand on his shoulder.</p><p>He looked at her and gave a soft smile. “Why hello, Tanya! No, we have plenty of time to talk. Let me say goodbye to my friend here, and I will be right with you. Get whatever you’d like from the barista. Tell him that I will take care of it.”</p><p>“I’m so glad I caught you in time! And thank you, it’s really nice of you to get me something. It’s been a not great day, and I knew I needed to talk to you. Usual seat, Pastor?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. She left the two men and went over to the counter.</p><p>“Thank you for indulging me with a delightful conversation, Crowley. Let me give you something.” Aziraphale reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and grabbed a card. He handed it to Crowley.</p><p>“Business card? Pastors really need these?”</p><p>“You have no idea how many connections we make. If you would like to give me a call or send me an email, we can continue our conversation.”</p><p>Crowley looked at him with hesitation. “You’re not trying to get me to join your church, are you? Because if that’s why you’re giving me this I’m not interested.”</p><p>“Oh, heaven’s no! I simply have enjoyed talking to you. I assure you I have no intention of trying to persuade you to become a member of my flock.”</p><p>Crowley breathed a sigh of relief and grinned. “Okay, good to know. Your ‘sheep’ over there needs you.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “Take care, Crowley. Enjoy the rest of this lovely Wednesday!”</p><p>Crowley couldn’t help but stare as Aziraphale walked away. He hated to see him go but loved to watch him leave. What could he say? He loved his angels thick. But the pastor part… Not so much. As much as that didn’t sit well with him, Aziraphale seemed different. Crowley had watched him long enough to see that he was a kind and caring person. Aziraphale seemed safe.</p><p>He took out his smartphone and added Aziraphale to his contacts. He saved his name as "Daddy Aziraphale." Pastors were called Fathers too, right?</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a pastoral care visit on Saturday morning, Aziraphale headed to his apartment. His church was not particularly wealthy. Before Aziraphale arrived ten years ago, the church elders made the decision to sell the parsonage. It was the congregation’s way of ensuring they’d have enough money to pay for a full-time pastor and keep their church building. A housing allowance was built into the package, but it wasn’t much. Aziraphale didn’t mind; he’d left behind luxury long ago when he said goodbye to England and moved to the United States. He was able to find a small apartment above a bookstore, and that was just fine with him. It wasn’t much, but he could afford it. It had one bedroom, a small bathroom, and an open floor plan for the kitchen and living room. Perfect for a single minister.</p><p>To no one’s surprise, Aziraphale’s apartment was filled with books. Bookshelves in the living room, bookshelves in the bedroom, books covering the coffee table and end table next to his couch. A pad of paper and a stack of Bibles was on his desk next to his ancient computer. The yellowing desktop had an outdated version of PearSoft Word, but it worked well enough for sermon writing. He much preferred to write his sermons at home. He did all his research and preparation in his cramped office. When it came time to write his sermon on Saturdays, he did so in the comfort of his home. Aziraphale felt more connected to God there. Safe with his books, safe with his hot cocoa or tea, safe to wrestle with his beliefs about Her.</p><p>Aziraphale hung up his coat, took off his shoes, and went into the kitchen. He poured himself a nice glass of Merlot and plopped down on the couch. When he was alone, he spoke his thoughts out loud to no one. He had been beating himself up the past few days.</p><p>“Why did I strike up a conversation with that Crowley fellow? That’s not like me at all to take such a step. Why oh why did I do that! I usually wait for people to sit down with me. He probably thinks I’m a lunatic! I’ve seen the way he brushes off all the people who speak to him… Yet I bothered him anyway.” Aziraphale gulped down his wine. “What if I ran him away from the coffee shop? Crowley will probably just see it as the place that creepy pastor sits and waits for an opportunity to proselytize. I’m such a fool!”</p><p>Aziraphale went back into the kitchen and poured himself another glass of wine. He knew he shouldn’t drink when he was filled with self-doubt, but old habits were hard to break. He took out some leftover sushi from the fridge and sat down at a small table. As Aziraphale ate, he replayed the last few months in his head. Every time that Aziraphale was at the coffee shop, Crowley was too. Aziraphale was well aware that Crowley stared at him. Even though Crowley wore sunglasses, Aziraphale could feel his penetrating gaze. He wasn’t sure why. Curiosity? Discomfort with a clergyperson’s close proximity? Attraction?</p><p>“No, he couldn’t possibly find me to be appealing… I’m soft. I’m everything that Crowley isn’t. Someone like him would never like someone as… As plain as me,” Aziraphale sighed. Let the self-loathing begin.</p><p>Just as Aziraphale was finishing up his lunch, his ancient smartphone vibrated. The church couldn’t afford an upgrade. That was just fine with Aziraphale; he didn’t use apps anyway. When he looked at who was calling, he groaned. It was worst possible person to call him when he felt low.</p><p>He put on a fake cheerful voice and answered the phone. “Hello, Bishop Gabriel. Always a pleasure to hear from you!”</p><p>“Pastor Aziraphale, I’m glad you picked up. I knew it would be a good time to catch you; helps you quit eating long enough to realize you’re full.”</p><p>“Ahh, yes. I suppose so.” Aziraphale frowned and put his hand on his belly.</p><p>“So, I’m downstairs. Let me in.” Gabriel hung up before Aziraphale could respond.</p><p>Gabriel was the bishop of the Beloved Disciples diocese. There were ten churches total within it. Aziraphale’s church was the smallest. In fact, it had stayed a consistent size since he arrived a decade ago. When a member died or moved, another person came and took their place. It was the way it was. Aziraphale had no interest in trying to grow the church; he believed that whoever needed to come would come. Unfortunately, Gabriel didn’t have the same attitude.</p><p>Aziraphale quickly gargled some mouthwash before he hurried down the stairs to let Gabriel in. Last thing he wanted was for the bishop to smell alcohol on his breath. He was a little winded when he opened the door for Gabriel. Not because of his weight, but because of his anxiety. His weight wasn’t an issue. He was in good shape. He didn’t have a car, so he walked as much as possible. But Gabriel would never accept that.</p><p>“Out of breath, I see. You really need to lose the gut, Aziraphale. I’ve got a personal trainer. See him five days a week. If you want I can get you in touch,” Gabriel shot him his trademark big grin. Aziraphale hated how fake it was.</p><p>“Thank you, Gabriel. I will consider it. After you,” Aziraphale stepped out of the way and ushered Gabriel up the stairs.</p><p>Every time Gabriel visited, he sat in the middle of the couch. It gave Aziraphale no space to join him, so he brought his chair from the kitchen table and sat down adjacent to the bishop. Gabriel picked up one of the books on Aziraphale’s coffee table. It was <em>Art That Dares: Gay Jesus, Woman Christ, and More. </em>Aziraphale was using it in preparation for an upcoming discussion on diverse Christian art.</p><p>Gabriel looked at the pictures with disdain. “I don’t see what’s wrong with the art we’ve always had. Jesus has looked the same for hundreds of years. It’s tradition and who are we to really change it.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s face reddened in discomfort. “Bishop Gabriel, I am using it for research. My congregation is curious about different images of Jesus and God. For some of them, traditional images are not helpful. It will be an engaging experience. And it keeps me ‘in the circle’ of what’s new. I went to seminary long, long ago, you know. Many things have changed.”</p><p>Gabriel gave him another fake smile. This time it had a look of irritation. “You don’t need things like this, Aziraphale. Teach them the way we’ve always taught them. If you’d stick to the Beloved Disciple’s Great Plan, you’d be a better pastor. And what is that plan, Aziraphale?”</p><p>“The Great Plan is to grow our flock,” Aziraphale fidgeted with his signet pinky ring.</p><p>“Matthew 28:19-20, Aziraphale. Recite it,” Gabriel commanded.</p><p>“<em>Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age</em>.”</p><p>“Good, you still know your Bible. Now, why I’m here. How many people are coming to church each Sunday?”</p><p>Aziraphale counted in his head for a moment. “Each Sunday, we have between 20 and 30 people in attendance. A mixture of adults of all ages. One family with three children. They don’t come very often—you know how difficult it is to be parents of small children. On silent worship that happens the first Sunday of the month, usually only five people attend.”</p><p>Gabriel frowned. “Aziraphale, your church hasn’t grown since you arrived. The number always stays the same. It is not part of the Great Plan for the Beloved Disciples. By now you should have at least 100! I expect you to start trying harder. You need to get out there and start bringing people into the flock. Any events coming up in Tadfield that you can set up a booth?”</p><p>“Y-yes, Bishop Gabriel. The annual Tadfield Antique Festival is coming up in two weeks. It’s a full weekend,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>“Do churches and local businesses have booths there?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded yes in response.</p><p>“Great! I’ll call the organizer and get you set up with a booth. Our diocese will pay the registration costs. Go get ‘em, shepherd,” Gabriel stood up and punched Aziraphale in the arm. He winced from the pain.</p><p>“Thank you for your visit and willingness to help, Bishop Gabriel. This will be a good opportunity for us. For the Great Plan.”</p><p>“For the Great Plan! Now let’s pray before I take off, Aziraphale. I hope you’re praying with your congregants. That’s part of the Plan too, you know. Now bow your head,” Gabriel ordered and began to pray. “God, we thank You for the Beloved Disciples. As a Body, we pray for Pastor Aziraphale. We hope that You will get through to him and make him the shepherd he’s supposed to be. Make him worthy of You, and worthy of his call to pastoral ministry. In Your name we pray, Amen.” Gabriel flashed him a grin.</p><p>“Amen,” Aziraphale responded. The bishop always gave the most condescending and hurtful prayers. The words would stick with Aziraphale for days. Sometimes he’d have a good cry after Gabriel left.</p><p>Gabriel turned to leave and gave one last glance at Aziraphale. “Don’t let us down, Aziraphale. I’ll come by after the festival to see your progress. Eat some fruits and vegetables and lay off the sweets.”</p><p>“Yes, bishop,” Aziraphale whispered.</p><p>When Gabriel left, Aziraphale sat back down on the couch. He began to cry. Even though Gabriel never admitted to it, Aziraphale knew in part why the bishop harassed him. The Beloved Disciples denomination was a welcoming and affirming one, but not every diocese lived that statement. The diocese Aziraphale was called to was one such diocese. Bishop Gabriel had a reputation for being quite conservative and rigid in his views. Aziraphale found out from the grapevine that Gabriel had tried to block the denomination’s decision to send Aziraphale to the diocese. The bishop said that the area “just wasn’t ready for a person like Aziraphale,” and couched it in fake concern for his safety. The fact of the matter was that Gabriel didn’t want a transgender pastor under him. He resolved to make Aziraphale’s life and ministry a nightmare. And yet, to Gabriel’s annoyance, Aziraphale never gave up.</p><p>It certainly was true that Aziraphale hadn’t exactly lived up to the bishop’s understanding of their “Great Plan.” But he was a good pastor, loved his congregation, and truly was a being of love. He radiated it and would do anything and everything to help his flock. It was who he was. But it was hard to keep his gifts in mind after an encounter with Gabriel.</p><p>Aziraphale dried his eyes, made himself a cup of tea and sat down at his computer. It was time to prepare a sermon. At least it was on one of Aziraphale’s favorites: Psalm 131. As he was getting ready to start typing, his cell phone went off again. It was an unfamiliar number with a different area code.</p><p>“Good afternoon, this is Pastor Fell!”</p><p>“Hey, Aziraphale. So you say you make a lot of connections… Surprised I could get through. Your phone must be buzzing 24/7.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat. His face flushed. “Crowley?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Scripture Reference: Matthew 28:19-20 (NRSV)</p><p>Silent Worship is a Quaker practice. It is also known as Waiting Worship. In this practice, Quakers sit together in silence, listening for the Holy Spirit. Some Quakers do this every single Sunday for an hour. Quakers who have pastors do it for 10-20 minutes during a usual worship service. But in my congregation, once a month we have an hour of Silent Worship. It is a beloved practice.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had gone back and forth about calling Aziraphale. Normally he had no interest in other people. He enjoyed the attention from strangers, planting the seeds of lust with his appearance and mysterious energy. It was fun to cause mischief in the workplace too. But other than causing a little chaos and being a tease, he wanted to be left alone. From his point of view, why bother making friends? They just die or disappear. The 80s taught him that. It was a lesson he never forgot.  </p><p>And yet, those few months of watching Aziraphale had him curious. He seemed like such a pleasant, kind soul. It was fascinating to watch him care for his congregants. The “sheep,” as Crowley liked to call them, often came in looking rough. Looks of concern, tear streaks on their cheeks, faces red with anger. Aziraphale would look at them with a tender, kind smile and invite them to sit. He’d buy them a drink and listen. Crowley tried not to stare at Aziraphale, but it was hard for him not to. He studied Aziraphale’s face. Every expression was sincere and thoughtful. Fully present. It was the first time in Crowley’s life that he believed a pastor actually gave a shit.</p><p>He was still a little surprised that Aziraphale introduced himself. Crowley could tell Aziraphale wasn’t driven by lust. It felt… Innocent. A seemingly genuine desire for conversation. But Crowley wanted to protect himself. What if Aziraphale was trying to pastor him? Make him feel bad about not going to church? What if he saw Crowley as just another soul to save?</p><p>Crowley waited a few days and decided to take the plunge. If Aziraphale ended up being a religious fanatic, Crowley could just yeet him out of his life. He could stake his claim over the coffee shop and sit in Aziraphale’s usual spot. Glare at the pastor until the discomfort forced him to find a new place to care for his sheep. Leave some unpleasant surprises around the church. Crowley was no stranger to playing dirty. And yet, Crowley had some hope that this time would be different. He was drawn to Aziraphale, and he had no clue why. For the first time in decades, Crowley felt a little optimism.</p><p>His hands were shaking as he made the call. Why the hell was he so nervous?</p><p>“Good afternoon, this is Pastor Fell!” Crowley felt a little weak in the knees when he heard Aziraphale’s voice. Cheerful and sweet.</p><p>Crowley steadied himself by leaning on the kitchen counter. He had to play it cool, be smooth. “Hey, Aziraphale. So you say you make a lot of connections… Surprised I could get through. Your phone must be buzzing 24/7.”</p><p>He could sense Aziraphale’s surprise. “Crowley?”</p><p>“The one and only.”</p><p>“Oh Crowley, it’s a delight to hear from you! I was quite concerned that my introduction the other day was… A bit much,” Aziraphale confessed.</p><p>“S’all right. Not like you kidnapped me, dragged me to your church and forced me into the kiddie pool to be baptized,” Crowley snarked.</p><p>Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. “Most certainly not! I assure you, Crowley, that I did not speak with you to convert you. And we do not use a kiddie pool. No immersion, just pouring. You’re thinking of the Rapture Church off of Revelation Lane.”</p><p>“You can’t be serious! There really is a church that has a kiddie pool? Unreal. I hope they’ve got rubber ducks. Good way to lure people into it.”</p><p>Aziraphale giggled, and it made Crowley smile. “I needed that laugh, Crowley. It has been quite a morning. Clearly your call was no mere coincidence. Thank you, good fellow.”</p><p>Crowley ignored Aziraphale’s suggestion that God had a hand in their conversation. “Pleasure’s all mine, Aziraphale. Now I’ve got a question.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“What do your Sunday afternoons look like after church? Could I tempt you to a spot of lunch?” Crowley crossed his fingers. If anyone was present, he would’ve denied it up and down.</p><p>“Temptation accomplished! I’m available after 11. Do you have any place in mind?” Crowley could hear Aziraphale’s excitement.</p><p>Crowley pumped his fist in victory. “Actually, I still don’t know what places are best. Don’t care what kind of food it is. Tell me the place and I’ll meet you.”</p><p>“Ahh, there are so many wonderful places to choose from! Despite Tadfield’s size, the cuisine is quite diverse, if you have not yet discovered that already. I’m fond of The Sushi Room. It’s not far from my church. Is that amenable?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“Sounds great. Haven’t had sushi in a long time. Meet you there at 11:30?”</p><p>“Splendid! I’ll see you there. I’m very much looking forward to it, Crowley.”</p><p>“Me too. See you tomorrow,” Crowley said.</p><p>“Yes, pip pip then!” Aziraphale responded and hung up.</p><p>Crowley set the phone down on the counter. He stared at it for a moment. “Pip pip? Who even says that anymore? Maybe he’s older than I thought.” Crowley smiled. For the first time in ages, he was looking forward to a Sunday. Even if Aziraphale was a little old fashioned, Crowley was confident that they would have a nice time.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s Saturday sermon writing went smoothly. Crowley’s phone call flipped his mood, and he was able to push Gabriel’s cruelty out of his mind. He was delighted that Crowley reached out to him and invited him out to lunch. His heart fluttered in his chest and his stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies. Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way.</p><p>On Sunday morning, Aziraphale had a spring in his step. He felt a little nervous, but the excitement far outweighed it. Aziraphale headed to the church early so he could prepare for worship. He always enjoyed the quiet time before his flock arrived. It gave him time to clear his head, push his worries out and let God in. The first thing Aziraphale always did was prepare communion. At a table behind the pulpit, the pastor put a fresh baked loaf of bread. He made it himself; Aziraphale hated the little wafers and didn’t want to subject his congregants to them. Once the bread was properly placed, he pulled out two glass bottles from the cabinets built into the table. One was filled with grape juice, the other with wine. This was important to Aziraphale; the last thing he wanted was for a person in recovery to not be able to partake in the Blood of Christ, the Cup of Salvation. Everyone had a place at Christ’s table, no exceptions. Aziraphale then took out two chalices and placed them on either side of the bread. Communion was ready.</p><p>Next came putting on his clerical garments. Aziraphale was wearing a cream-colored button up long sleeve shirt complete with clerical color. Brown dress pants, brown suspenders, and brown Oxfords completed the look. He didn’t wear a dress jacket; it was always far too hot. Aziraphale went into the closet behind the sanctuary where all the garments and supplies were kept. He smiled when he saw his robe, stole, and cross hung neatly on a hook at the end of the closet. Miss Eloise, a long-time congregant, always did such a nice job tending to the sacred garments. Aziraphale said a little prayer of gratitude for her. Aziraphale admired the bright white of his robe, his tartan stole, and the large cross necklace that completed the look. Every time Aziraphale gazed at the garments, he remembered his past. He remembered the decades of perseverance and fight it took to get to this point. He was reminded that those days were still not over, never would be. He thanked Christ for the strength to keep following his call. With a prayer to Jesus on his lips, Aziraphale took them off the hanger and slipped them on.</p><p> Soon, the pews were filled with congregants. Aziraphale was happy to see that there were 30 folks today. A perfect day for a “full house” (if it could be called that). Why? Because he was preaching on one of his favorite psalms! He hoped it would be a soothing message to his flock.</p><p>A new attender, Newton Pulsifer, read the scripture. Newt was quite anxious standing at the pulpit. He looked as though he was about to faint. But Aziraphale encouraged him and told him he could do whatever he set his mind to. It reminded Newt of his mother, who always believed in him. It was a great comfort, and part of why he started coming to the Beloved Disciples Church. Newt took a deep breath, and he read the psalm quietly in a shaky voice:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <span class="u">Psalm 131</span> </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em><sup>1 </sup>A song of ascents. Of David.</em>
</p><p><em>Lord</em> <em>, my heart is not proud;</em> <em><br/>    nor are my eyes haughty.<br/>I do not busy myself with great matters,<br/>    with things too sublime for me.<br/><sup>2 </sup>Rather, I have stilled my soul,<br/>Like a weaned child to its mother,<br/>    weaned is my soul.<br/><sup>3 </sup>Israel, hope in the Lord,<br/>    now and forever.</em></p><p> </p><p>After Newt read, he stayed motionless for a while. He wasn’t sure what to do. Aziraphale came up to him, whispered that he did a good job, and gently turned him towards the aisle. Once Newt made it to his seat, Aziraphale delivered his message:</p><p>
  <em>“The psalmist shows us a way of seeing God as a loving, caring mother. We are all in the place of the child. All of us were weaned long ago. We no longer are fed from our mother’s breast. The time of pure dependence on Her has ended. We aren’t held close for a feeding. All of our needs are not met by Her. We try to meet as many as we can by ourselves. She does not carry us in Her arms all the time anymore. We have wiggled free. We’re out in the world, exploring, learning, and growing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As we make our way in the world, we may forget the truths we knew when She held us. Over time, our innocence gives way. For the better sometimes, for the worse others. The things we see and experience may harden us, discourage us, make us feel small. We don’t always feel cared for. We feel the painful sting of conditional love. We are reminded of our flaws, our faults. We dwell on the things we’ve said and done, beat ourselves up. We may feel like we are no longer worthy of love, worthy of understanding. These times are painful, sometimes excruciatingly so. We wonder where to turn, where we can go.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But just as a weaned child can leave, so, too, can we return. We are always welcome to visit Her in our times of need. We can talk to Her whenever we want. Reach out to Her whenever we need Her. The more we visit, the more we can trust that She will always be there for us. She can still our soul in times of trouble, give us the comfort and strength to get through the hardest moments of life. She never left us, She will never leave. While what She does is ineffable in many ways, Her love is not. We can be sure that even if we do not hear Her voice, She is still listening.”</em>
</p><p>Did Aziraphale believe that God was listening and speaking? He wasn’t really sure. It was easy for Aziraphale to connect to Jesus and feel His presence. But God was a different matter. It was hard for him to hear Her voice. It had been for quite some time, now. Gabriel’s cruelty, past hurts in the church, and poor sleep made silently listening for God’s guidance a challenge. At this point, Aziraphale wasn’t sure how involved She was in his life. The only things Aziraphale knew was that he believed in God, that She called him to ministry, and that She would always be his Mother.</p><p>For Aziraphale, what was most important was to comfort his congregation. Give them different ways to see and relate with God. Many needed an alternative to the messages they heard about God growing up. They needed to know that God always loved them and was with them in the struggles in life. And, truth be told, Aziraphale needed to believe that too. It helped him distance himself from the Christianity he was raised and spent the first few years of ministry in. Some days his messages were for him as much as his congregation. This was certainly one of them.</p><p> </p><p>After the sermon, Aziraphale offered communion. It was open to anyone who wished to receive the Body and Blood of Christ. He blessed his congregation, just as he did every Sunday, and sent them on their way. Aziraphale walked to the back of the church, greeted everyone, and chatted with them. It was always one of his favorite parts of being a pastor. To Aziraphale, it was a blessing to have each and every one of them in his flock. In particular, he was happy to see Newt approach him. Aziraphale loved watching him open up.</p><p>“Hello, Pastor Fell. Thanks for giving me a chance today and letting me read. How was it?” Newt asked. The poor man looked like a bundle of frayed wires as he waited for Aziraphale’s response.</p><p>“Newt, you did an excellent job. You gave the psalm a capable and beautiful voice. I hope in the future you’ll consider reading our scripture again. You are a blessing to us and to God. Say hello to your dear Anathema for me. I’ve only been able to greet her in passing as I go in and out of my apartment.” Aziraphale responded with a warm smile.</p><p>Newt relaxed. “Thanks, Pastor Fell, I appreciate that. And I will. She’d like to have you over for dinner sometime soon. She’ll never set foot in here for a worship service, but she likes you.”</p><p>“I would love to have dinner with you both. Telephone me or send me an email with some dates and times that will work for you both. I’ll be sure to pencil it into my schedule,” Aziraphale smiled, and Newt nodded.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>By the time Aziraphale was able to change out of his garments, put away communion, and lock up the church, it was almost 11:30. Terrified of being late for his lunch “date” he asked the last remaining congregant, Lilith, if she could drop him off at The Sushi Room. She happily agreed and got him there right on the dot.</p><p>“Thank you, my dear Lilith. Have a blessed Sunday, and I’m looking forward to our visit this week,” Aziraphale and exited her car. She waved goodbye and took off. When Aziraphale turned around, Crowley was standing outside the restaurant waiting for him.</p><p>“Got your own personal chauffer I see… Is it part of the package they gave you when you accepted the job?” Crowley grinned.</p><p>“The one greatest blessing of the church, Crowley, are all the women who make sure everything keeps afloat. Without them, I would have drowned long ago. It’s nice to have someone like Lilith take me places. I, ah, do not have a car and do not drive. I would have taken public transit, but that simply is not a possibility on Sundays.”</p><p>“Must be tough. Seems like public transit is shit here,” Crowley replied.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “I’m afraid smaller towns are not as privileged as big cities in the transportation department.”</p><p>They were silent for a moment. Aziraphale took the opportunity to look at Crowley. He couldn’t help but take in all his features. His long hair was in a loose braid today. Crowley had a dark shade of lipstick on and cat-eye sunglasses. He wore a blood red jacket with a matching skirt, a low-cut black tank top, and black leggings. High heel boots and a snakeskin purse completed the look. Aziraphale could not deny to himself that he loved what he saw. Not only today, but all the months of seeing Crowley at the coffee shop. Crowley was always beautiful.</p><p>Crowley lifted and eyebrow and gave him a knowing look. Aziraphale knew he’d been caught staring. The pastor cleared his throat. “Crowley, I realize that when I introduced myself the other day, I did not give you my pronouns. I use he/him/his. May I ask what yours are? I want to make sure I respect your identity and expression,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>“First person to ask me that since I came to Tadfield. S’nice of you to think about that. He/him/his is what I prefer to go by, but I don’t really give a shit to be real with you. Gender’s just a construct and it’s whatever to me. Use whatever works for you and I’ll respond,” Crowley responded.</p><p>“Masculine pronouns it is, then. Should that ever change, please let me know.”</p><p>Crowley nodded. “Will do, angel. Ready for lunch?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled nervously. Did Crowley really just call him angel?! “Ah, yes. I’m feeling quite peckish. Breakfast doesn’t sustain me for long on Sundays.”</p><p>Crowley held the door open for Aziraphale, and they went inside. While Aziraphale’s back was turned, Crowley lightly smacked his forehead. Well, no going back now. He’d used the pet name once, and decided he’d just keep doing it. He could always pass it off as a joke if need be.</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley got several rolls to share and miso soup. Crowley found it a little hard to eat his own food; he was enjoying the show Aziraphale put on. Aziraphale wiggled in his seat and smiled with each bite. He savored every morsel and commented on how scrumptious everything was. Crowley had never had a more entertaining dining companion. Food never was of much interest to Crowley, but Aziraphale was starting to change his mind.</p><p>“This is just incredible, isn’t it Crowley? It is by far one of the best restaurants in town. What do you think?”</p><p>Crowley stabbed a California roll and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed with an open mouth and spoke at the same time. He’d hoped to get a rise out of Aziraphale. “Mmm, delishus.”</p><p>Aziraphale gasped in mock offense and wagged his finger. “Now now, good fellow, didn’t a pansy ever teach you that you’ll ruin your lipstick chewing like that? If not, I’ll be happy to remind you in the future.”</p><p>Clearly his attempt backfired. Crowley nearly choked on his sushi. He coughed for a good while before he could finally swallow. “Lesson learned. Looks like I’ll be consulting with Pastor Pansy for etiquette from now on.”</p><p>Aziraphale laughed. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. He knew he’d never get tired of that precious laugh.</p><p>After they finished their lunch and Crowley paid, they sat in silence for a moment. It was clear that neither of them wanted their time together to end. Aziraphale offered a warm smile and spoke.</p><p>“Dessert is always the most important part of a meal. Would you care to join me for some ice cream and a walk in the park? It’s close by and we won’t need to drive there.”</p><p>“Depends. This place have ice lollies? Not feeling ice cream today. Walk’s still good though,” Crowley grinned.</p><p>“Why yes, of course. It’s a cute little stand in the park, and I can assure you they’ll have just the right treat for you.”</p><p>“Lead the way, angel.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale insisted on paying for dessert. He didn’t want to appear as though he was taking advantage of Crowley. He wanted their friendship—hopefully friendship—to be built on equal footing. From his theology, Aziraphale strongly believed all people were equal in the sight of God, and he tried to live that out in his life and ministry.</p><p>“Had exactly what I wanted,” Crowley grinned before wrapping his tongue around the cherry popsicle. Aziraphale noticed for the first time that Crowley’s tongue was split. Each side moved of its own accord. How hadn’t he caught that before?</p><p>“When did you have that done? Err, or were you born that way?” Aziraphale quickly took a bite of his vanilla ice cream.</p><p>Crowley wiggled both sides of his tongue at Aziraphale and licked his lips. “Oh, this?” Aziraphale nodded. “Split it myself back in the early 90s. Had the nickname ‘Serpent’ back in the 80s. Have a tattoo but it didn’t seem like enough. My way of remembering some stuff. S’okay with you I don’t really want to discuss that right now,” Crowley said and took another lick of his popsicle.</p><p>Aziraphale looked away for a moment. “My apologies, Crowley. I didn’t mean to cross a boundary. Let’s change the subject, dear fellow. What is something you wish to ask me?”</p><p>“Tell me about this pastoring business of yours. Only see you listening to your sheep. And either not wanting to herd people into your flock or doing a bloody terrible job at it,” Crowley grinned.</p><p>Aziraphale scrunched his face at that. It brought back the memories of Gabriel’s visit the day prior. “Well, Crowley, you certainly are not wrong about that. I have not been…” he looked down and blushed in shame.</p><p>Crowley frowned and felt some regret at the comment he made.</p><p>Aziraphale continued. “I have not been interested in trying to bring people into the church. My congregation has stayed the same size ever since I arrive ten years ago. People come as they need to. But my bishop has other ideas and certainly thinks I’m doing a ‘terribly bloody job’ at being a pastor. Great Plan and all that.”</p><p>Crowley finished his popsicle and tossed the stick in a trash can. He looked carefully at Aziraphale. “Great Plan? What in Someone does that even mean?”</p><p>“Oh, yes. Church language I can’t expect you to know. I forget sometimes. According to Bishop Gabriel, the Great Plan of the church is to follow Matthew 28:19-20: <em>Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age</em>. I am rather fond of the ending, but not the beginning portion. I don’t really think I’m capable of ‘making disciples.’ But, this is what the diocese says we must do, and I suppose I shouldn’t question the Great Plan too much,” Aziraphale sighed, finished his ice cream cone, and wiped off his fingers with a handkerchief.</p><p>“Sorry not sorry, Aziraphale, but that’s stupid. Not what you said about not being able to convert people. Part of why I’m here walking with you. Wouldn’t bother with you if you were trying to butter me up to be a good church boy. But that whole Great Plan nonsense… How the Hell can anyone believe that works?” Crowley raised his hands exasperation.</p><p>Aziraphale went quiet. He knew Crowley wasn’t disrespecting him, but it still stung. He was clergy, and there were rules he had to follow. Well, at least put it on the paperwork that he was attempting to follow them. He felt the need to defend the Beloved Disciples to Crowley but decided against it. He needed to put his “pastor hat” on and keep the defensive feelings to himself for now. They just met, and Aziraphale could tell Crowley had some wounds from religion.</p><p>He quickly changed the subject. “Well, Crowley, back to your question about what my tasks are as a pastor. There is much more than the pastoral care you witness at Thanks a Latte and writing sermons. I write up our weekly newsletter with church business, volunteer opportunities, and local events. I attend a conference call weekly with the other pastors in my diocese about what we’re doing, and we discuss the scripture for the week. I write devotionals several times a week for my congregants to reflect on. I lead a Bible study. Our focus is on queer theology right now, and we are looking at different images of God and such alongside our readings. I also keep up to date on what our church committees are doing and help as needed. We do not have many, thank Heavens, otherwise I would be quite exhausted. I also attend events in town to make our presence known for my congregants’ sake. I write it off as following the Great Plan.”</p><p>Crowley looked surprised. “Didn’t realize you actually did much. Kind of thought you just sat in your cramped office by yourself like a robot until it was time to visit people and work on Sundays.”</p><p>Aziraphale felt relieved. They were getting back to a lighter mood. “Oh, how nice it would be sometimes to just sit and wait for things to happen! I would be dishonest if I said it wasn’t exhausting sometimes. But I couldn’t imagine a better vocation, Crowley. Nothing makes my heart happier.”</p><p>“S’good you found something like that. Feel the same way about my job now. Hated where I was before. Working for Tadfield Botanical Gardens is actually fun. Work doesn’t suck anymore, and it’s quiet here,” Crowley replied. Aziraphale had shared so much, he figured he may as well open up a bit.</p><p>“May I ask what your prior work was?”</p><p>“’Course. I worked for Big Pharma for a few decades. Have a Masters Degree in Botany and I did research on the plants we used for meds. Long days in labs. Not many days off. Money and benefits were good but it got old. Loved spending time with the plants, but everything else… Sucked bullocks. Now I’ll admit I did enjoy finding plants that gave some mild side effects. Not enough to make people suffer too much, but it spiced things up. Since they’re expected no one ever really knew,” Crowley shrugged.</p><p>Aziraphale looked at him in shock. “Were you behind Dandelipro?”</p><p>Crowley nodded and gave a wicked grin.</p><p>“Oh, Crowley! You foul fiend! I took that medication for three months and my skin was glowing the entire time!”</p><p>“Made you look more like an angel though, didn’t it?”</p><p>Aziraphale’s shock turned into a deep blush. He glanced away and back at Crowley again. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved that Crowley called him angel more than once. He knew it wasn’t a fluke.</p><p> “W-well, I believe I still have a polaroid a dear friend took during that time. She thought it was terribly funny, and I must admit it was. I will search for it and the next time I see you I suppose I will let you make the judgment yourself. I certainly don’t think I look like an angel but thank you, good fellow.”</p><p>“Looking forward to seeing my handiwork. Gotta say that drug was my proudest achievement,” Crowley smiled nostalgically as he remembered the months of testing. He would always love dandelions because of it.</p><p>Aziraphale looked up at the sky and realized it was nearing evening. There was still quite a bit of work to be done. Messages and phone calls to return, the sermon manuscript needed to be emailed to everyone, the newsletter to polish up… He was usually finished with those tasks by now. Even though he might be working late into the night, Aziraphale didn’t regret it for a second. Aziraphale loved the time with Crowley.</p><p>“Crowley, I hate to bring our time together to an end, but I must be heading home. I have a few pastoral tasks to complete before I retire for the night. Thank you for such a wonderful time. I must admit I haven’t had this much fun in quite a while,” Aziraphale gave Crowley a soft smile.</p><p>Crowley grinned. He felt victorious. “I had a good time too, Aziraphale. Glad you gave me your business card. Text me when you want to get together again, yeah?”</p><p>Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Ah, I’m afraid texting isn’t possible. The mobile phone the church gave me has a grandfathered plan. Phone calls are unlimited, but texting costs an obscene amount. They have not changed the plan because our bill is more affordable than any other, and we try to stretch our funds as much as possible. However, do you happen to correspond by email? My email address is on the business card I gave you. If this form of communication acceptable to you?”</p><p>“I check my email constantly. What a good smartphone is for, besides texting of course. And video games to pass the time. Sad your church is stuck in the dark ages, but I get it. I remember what it was like pinching pennies.” Crowley grabbed his wallet from his purse, took out his own business card and handed it to Aziraphale.”</p><p>Aziraphale quickly put Crowley’s business card in his pocket. He didn’t want to appear too excited to have received it, but Crowley saw right through him.</p><p>“You need a lift home, angel?”</p><p>Aziraphale shook his head. “No thank you. I actually only live a few minutes from here. My apartment’s above A. Nutter’s Bookshop. Have a good evening, Crowley. I will send you an email soon. Pip pip!”</p><p>“Yeah, ‘pip pip’ to you too. Night, Aziraphale.” He waved goodbye to Aziraphale and stared at him as he walked away. He noticed the pep in the pastor’s step. Crowley felt the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. And as he walked back to his Bentley, Crowley could’ve sworn his own feet were off the ground.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale woke up late in the morning. It was the first time in weeks that he slept through an entire night. He even slept in! Couldn’t be a more perfect day for it; Monday was one of Aziraphale’s days off. He knew he had Crowley to thank for such a pleasant night’s rest. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so happy. At ease. At peace. Crowley’s presence and company was a gift. A gift from God, if Aziraphale felt like being honest with himself. This morning he was.</p><p>Aziraphale stretched, put on a fluffy robe, and headed out to his small kitchen. He put the kettle on, popped some bread in the toaster and pulled out some blackberry jam. Aziraphale held onto the jar for a long time. It gave him the perfect reason to email Crowley and schedule another outing. He knew he didn’t need a reason, but Aziraphale always preferred to do things with purpose.</p><p>The kettle’s scream took him out of his thoughts. He quickly poured himself some tea, slathered his toast in jam, and hurried to his old desktop. When the old machine was finally up and running, Aziraphale began to write an email. Not that he would admit it, but he’d memorized Crowley’s email address already. He’d stared at Crowley’s business card for an awfully long-time last night.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Crowley,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>I am deeply grateful for lunch and a wonderful walk in the park yesterday. Your company is most delightful. I cannot recall the last time I had such a joyous afternoon with someone. I’m quite glad that I did not scare you off when I startled you several days ago. Thank you for taking the initiative to call me and schedule time with me.</em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Now I would like to do the same. This morning as I was making breakfast, I took a jar of homemade jam out of my fridge. I recently purchased it at the Tadfield Farmer’s Market. Good fellow, have you been? It occurs on Fridays and Saturdays. Saturdays are often quite busy for me, and I cannot go. However, the Friday hours are in the evening. It goes from five until eight. I do not work on Fridays, so it is usually when I attend. I am assuming you have a Monday through Friday work schedule, though correct me if I am mistaken. Would you be finished with your workday? If so, I would like to invite you to accompany me to the Farmer’s Market this Friday. I can meet you at any time.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Sincerely,</em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale </em>
</p><p>
  
  
</p><p>As soon as Aziraphale pressed send, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He was surprised with himself. Aziraphale hadn’t been this bold since 1982… Hadn’t had the strength to pursue something—someone—in 38 years. It simply hurt too much. Finally, after all this time, Aziraphale felt God breaking his heart open. Filling him with Her love, strength, and grace. She was telling him that it was time to try again. He was ready. What was he ready for, exactly? Friendship? A romantic relationship? He did not know. All Aziraphale knew is God put Crowley in his life for a reason, and that he had to put his full trust in Her.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley was at the Gardens today. He was spending the day with the poisonous plants. He remembered the first day he laid eyes on them. Some of them were in quite a state when he arrived. The Monkshood was failing to thrive. The Dragon Arum wasn’t smelly enough. The Oleander’s blooms were lackluster. Those weren’t even the worst of the lot! They hadn’t been properly tended to in quite some time. And they certainly had not been subjected to the patent pending Crowley Method.</p><p>Crowley was properly dressed in protective equipment: a black hazmat suit, a mask, boots, and sturdy gloves, and tinted prescription safety glasses. As much as he missed wearing his heels, Crowley couldn’t take any chances. He’d made that mistake in the field years ago and vowed to never be so foolish again.</p><p> “You all know what today is, don’t you?” The plants visibly shook, as if they were nodding yes to Crowley’s question. No one knew why Crowley was able to incite such a reaction out of them. A few of his religious colleagues in the past suspected he was a demon. But Crowley himself didn’t even know why; he just knew that he did, and he put it to good use.</p><p>“Good, I can see you’ve been paying attention. Weekly inspection time.” Crowley circled around the plants with his hands behind his back. He eyed each one with scrutiny. When his gaze was set upon a plant, their leaves would shake even more. Much to his pleasure, all of them were thriving. No leaf spots to be found, no slow growth, no discoloration. What he saw were beautiful blooms, lots of toxic berries, and new growth. He could smell the horrendous stench of rotting flesh in the air from the Dragon Arum. Perfection.</p><p>Still, Crowley couldn’t offer them too much praise. They needed to know he was dominant, he was their master, that he was not to be crossed. “Hmm… Not as disappointing as last week. But still…” Crowley picked up an empty pot and threw it on the ground. It shattered and the plants trembled in fear. “GROW BETTER! OR THIS WILL HAPPEN TO YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” Crowley yelled as loud as he could. The rustling of leaves and flowers filled the room. They understood their master loud and clear.</p><p>“Good. Looks like you’ve earned some water.” Crowley picked up his trusty plant sprayer/mister combo and got to work.</p><p>As he watered the quivering plants, his phone pinged in his pocket. It was an email notification. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. He hoped it was Aziraphale. But he knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up. It was most likely another message from his boss Beelzebub Prince (Beez for short). They probably wanted to criticize him for something or another. Beez’s constant criticism and demands were probably embedded in them since their birth. “Gotta love Devilists…” Crowley mumbled under his breath.</p><p>Two hours later, Crowley was finished caring for the plants and could take his lunch break. He was relieved to be out of all the protective gear. With a sigh, Crowley flung himself across the couch in the break room and took out his phone. He nearly let out a squeak of joy when he saw it was, in fact, Aziraphale who emailed him.</p><p>Crowley grinned. He read the email over and over again. He was over the moon that Aziraphale wanted to see him again. Of course he’d keep his cool in his response to Aziraphale. One of the blessings of the written word. With shaky fingers, Crowley typed his response:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hey angel,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Nice surprise getting this from you. I had a great time yesterday too. I’m not that social, so coming from me that’s a big deal. I’ll be out of work at 5 on Friday. Haven’t been to the market yet. Didn’t even know about it actually. You’d think for a town this size I’d be in the know already. Guess I haven’t met the right people yet. You’ll just have to tell me everything I need to know </em>
  <em>😉</em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>I’ll see you there at 5:30. Not a big fan of jam myself, but I’m sure there’ll be something I like. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Probably see you at the coffee shop before then, but we probably won’t talk much. We both have work to get done anyway, and I don’t want to take the shepherd away from his sheep. This wolf will stay away…For now. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>- C</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Crowley chuckled at calling himself a wolf. Though he hoped that Aziraphale knew there wasn’t any bite to it. He set an alarm on his phone, sprawled out on the couch, and took a nap.</p><p>“Crowley!”</p><p>“Ngk!” Crowley woke up with a start. He quickly sat up and saw his boss glaring down at him.</p><p>“The break room is not a place for naps. You can be a sloth at home.” Beez snapped.</p><p>Crowley looked closely at their face. Beez always had a stern look, face set in a permanent scowl. In accordance with their religious views, they always wore black, a red sash, and crown cufflinks. For some reason Beez also had a thing for flies. They wore a fly pin above their heart. The last time Crowley was called into their office he noticed dozens of habitats filled with various species of the little pests. He wondered if they loved them as much as he loved plants.</p><p>“’M not a sloth. 'M a Crowley. Just resting after completing today’s dose of doling out the Crowley Method. Takes energy to get them to behave, y’know,” Crowley grinned.</p><p>Beez narrowed their eyes. “Yes, I’ve seen you work. I’ll commend you for your ability to do what others have not been able to do. Yet, the point still stands, Crowley. Get your work done and don’t let me catch you sleeping in here again. Get back to work.”</p><p>“My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet! I still have,” Crowley looked at his phone, “five minutes. Gimme these five minutes and I’ll get back to the grind.”</p><p>They continued to stare at him. “Only because it’s the law for you to get an hour break. I expect the paperwork on your progress with the Dragon Arum on my desk by the time you leave today.” Beez gave Crowley one last look of annoyance and left the break room.</p><p>Crowley closed his eyes and finished up his nap. He may get punished, but Crowley knew he wouldn’t get fired. He was much too good at what he did for Beez to kick him to the curb. As Crowley closed his eyes, an image of Aziraphale smiling flashed in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale wiggled in his seat and let out a little happy noise when he read Crowley’s email. Crowley even called him angel again! Aziraphale blushed as he remembered the first time it came from Crowley’s lips. No one had said something so kind about his appearance. Well, not since… Aziraphale shook the thought out of his mind. He didn’t want to think about the past. Just this present moment.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Crowley,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>I’m looking forward to spending Friday evening with you, starting at 5:30 sharp. I will meet you by the entrance. We’ll have a wonderful time. Usually there is someone performing live music, there are plenty of free samples and food trucks. We’ll be able to enjoy a delicious meal together, so I encourage you not to eat before you arrive. There is one thing I know you will love—quite a few venders sell plants. You have a plant room at home, perhaps you’ve room for several more?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I do not think a wolf suits you, Crowley. While you are clever, I cannot see it. You told me yourself that you are a serpent. So I should hope that you will not bite their ankles.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Until Friday,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Until Friday,” Aziraphale said to himself. He prayed to God that this week would fly by. If he could fast forward time he would.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale arrived a little before 5:30 to make sure Crowley could find him. He was dressed in his usual attire, sans clerical collar. This was a day off and he was off the clock. Bishop Gabriel and his fellow clergy people Uriel, Michael, and Sandalphon labeled him a “fuddy-duddy.” They told him that he belonged in an antique shop for sporting “grandpa couture.” Sometimes they’d pull on his clothes, look him up and down in disgust. Not long ago, Aziraphale learned not to wear suspenders around Gabriel; he’d always pull them and snap them as hard as he could. Aziraphale didn’t quit dressing the way he did even though he felt self-conscious sometimes. It was who he was, and he couldn’t change that. Plus, button up shirts worked well with wearing a binder.</p><p>“Looking good today, angel. Not too sure about that tartan bowtie, though.” Crowley said as he sauntered over to Aziraphale.</p><p>Aziraphale sassed back. “Tartan is stylish! It’s coming back. Haven’t you been to a boutique lately?”</p><p>Crowley threw his head back and laughed. Aziraphale took the opportunity to get a good look at Crowley. His pale red hair was up in a bun. He was in a dark gray long sleeve henley, tight black leather pants, and stilettos so tall that Aziraphale was afraid Crowley would break an ankle. He had a red leather messenger back with him. And, of course, sunglasses. Aziraphale could see all the sharp angles of Crowley’s body. The thought of touching Crowley crossed Aziraphale’s mind, but he quickly pushed it away. Thinking of Crowley in such a lustful manner made him uncomfortable.</p><p>“Well, you’ve promised plant vendors and sinful food. Care to make good on your promise?” Crowley smiled.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled back. “Of course, good fellow. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. It’s been a part of my routine for years now. On tough weeks in ministry, I find the music, food, and delightful vendors always lift my spirits. Perhaps this can become such a thing for you, too. After you.” Aziraphale stepped to the side, allowing Crowley to enter the open gate first.</p><p>Crowley was surprised to see so many people. In October, of all months. But it was unusually warm for October by Crowley’s standards. Made sense for people to enjoy it while it lasted. There were tons of booths. Folks selling baked goods, homemade soaps, honey and bee products, crafts, seasonal fruits and vegetables. Aziraphale was good on his word; there were several plant vendors too!</p><p>Aziraphale encouraged Crowley to lead them. He wanted to watch Crowley’s expressions. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes and smile every time Crowley made a joke or teased the vendors. Aziraphale would say something kind to the vendor if Crowley’s comments were particularly rude or snarky. Crowley would glance back at Aziraphale and flash him a grin; they seemed to cancel out each other’s actions, putting people back in a neutral place.</p><p>“Good fellow, would you mind going over to the food trucks and choosing what you’d like to eat? I need to catch up with someone for a moment. I’ll be with you lickety-split,” Aziraphale fiddled with his pinkie ring.</p><p>Crowley raised an eyebrow and shrugged. He wasn’t sure why Aziraphale wanted time to himself, but he figured it must have something to do with being a pastor. “Sure, angel. Going to find the place that fries everything. Get you a fried cookie. Maybe they’d be willing to fry up your bowtie, too. I’ll ask while you’re away.”</p><p>“Oh you foul fiend! Off you go now,” Aziraphale sighed and shooed Crowley away. He heard Crowley snicker in response.</p><p>When Crowley was out of sight in the crowd, Aziraphale headed over to one of the plant vendors. He wanted to get Crowley a gift; he knew that no one had given Crowley a proper Tadfield welcome. Aziraphale wanted to fix that. He decided to go to the one that had more exotic and odd plants. He knew they wouldn’t be anything like what Crowley worked with, but it was the thought that counted. Aziraphale wiggled in excitement when he stumbled across the perfect plant. He bought it without a second’s hesitation, asked for it to be placed in a paper bag so Crowley couldn’t see it, and offered the vendor a blessing of gratitude.</p><p>“Did you find a vendor willing to cook up your messenger bag, Crowley?”</p><p>Crowley smirked. “Alas, the ‘fry guy’ isn’t here today. Don’t think the leather would go down as smoothly as your tie, but maybe next time he’ll be here. Just have to wait and see. So, how about Greek?”</p><p>“Oh yes, that sounds heavenly. Actually, Kora and her wife Adelaide are my congregants. It will be nice to support them. In fact, when I come here I usually order something from them. They’re lovely women,” Aziraphale said with a fond smile. He just oozed love for his congregants. Crowley didn’t get it, but he thought it was sweet.</p><p>When they arrived at the food truck, Kora and Adelaide expressed their excitement to see him.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, it’s as if we just saw you Sunday!” Kora teased.</p><p>“I believe you may be right, Kora. And it’s a delight to see you both again!” Aziraphale said with a wiggle. His congregants gave him big smiles. Looked like they loved his excited movements as much as Crowley did.</p><p>“Kora and Adelaide, this is my friend Crowley. Crowley, meet Kora and Adelaide. They worship at my church on Sundays. Kora often blesses us with her beautiful voice, and Adelaide accompanies her with her excellent guitar playing,” Aziraphale beamed with pride.</p><p>Crowley waved. “S’nice to meet you both. You’ll never see me set foot in that place—I’d probably burst into flames.” Kora and Adelaide giggled. Aziraphale turned away from Crowley and frowned; he didn’t want Crowley to his expression.</p><p>“Anyway, Daddy Aziraphale here seems pretty great. Only pastor I’ve ever met who isn’t a complete bastard. Only enough of one to be worth knowing,” Crowley winked. The wives burst out into laughter.</p><p>Aziraphale blushed. “Crowley! It’s Pastor Fell, not ‘Daddy Aziraphale’!”</p><p>Adelaide piped up. “You know, Crowley, that actually fits a bit when he’s in his street clothes…”</p><p>Aziraphale turned an unnatural shade of red. He changed the subject. “Well, shall we order then, Crowley? I usually ask Kora to decide. She always seems to know exactly what will hit the spot.”</p><p>Crowley shot him a cheeky grin. He loved getting under people’s skin. “If Daddy here trusts you, then I s’pose I’ll trust your judgment too.” Crowley slapped an obscene amount of cash on the counter. It was far more than their meal would cost. But he had the money, and the wives deserved it. “Keep the change.”</p><p>Kora, Adelaide, and Aziraphale stared at the money wide-eyed. Truth be told, none of them had ever seen that much in one place. Kora and Adelaide thanked Crowley profusely, but he waved his hand in nonchalance. No one spoke until their gyros and baklava were ready. Crowley and Aziraphale thanked them and found an open picnic table. It was almost miraculous that one was available in the throng of people.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After dinner, Crowley and Aziraphale continued to sit at the picnic table.</p><p>“So Crowley, besides torturing me in public, what else do you do for fun?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“Well I think that’s my favorite hobby these days. You make it easy, feeds my mischief meter. Think it’s ‘bout full now.”</p><p>“You wily serpent.”</p><p>Crowley stuck his split tongue out at Aziraphale and wiggled each side separately. Aziraphale rolled his eyes in response.</p><p>“Jokes aside though, I’m pretty chill most the time. ‘Sides working Monday through Friday, I try to take it easy. Spent so long in the rat race that I never really got to sloth it up. When I go home, I take care of my plants, troll people on the internet, watch reality TV and the Golden Girls… Currently working on renovating my greenhouse too. It’s got a good frame but it was in rough shape when I bought my place. Lot of the glass was broken. Just finished that.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. “Oh, a greenhouse sounds perfect for you! Do you know what you’ll grow yet?”</p><p>“Probably fruits and vegetables and flowers I like. Nothing like the stuff I work with at my job. Be nice to grow my own food. Never really had the opportunity to do that before,” Crowley answered.</p><p>“I’d imagine, living in the big city like you used to. Even if I owned a home with a yard I wouldn’t be able to garden I’m afraid.”</p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>Aziraphale blushed. “I ah, have a ‘death thumb’ I’m afraid. I’ve never once been successful at keeping a plant alive. Even a Spider Plant could not survive under my care. Poor thing withered and went to Heaven in less than a week. It was quite lovely when I got it. The florist said that they were impossible to kill. I suppose they were wrong.”</p><p>Crowley burst out into laughter. He was laughing so hard that tears ran down his cheeks.</p><p>“It’s not funny, Crowley! I have the chlorophyll of numerous plants on my hands! I had to have funerals for them!” The response only made Crowley laugh harder.</p><p>It was a few minutes before Crowley was able to calm down. He grabbed a napkin from his plate, wiped his eyes, and took some deep breaths. “Sorry, angel. I haven’t heard anything that pitiful in a good long time. You ever want to try to have a plant in the future, lemme know. I can teach you the Crowley Method. Works every time. And no, I won’t tell you what it is. You’ll have to wait and see,” Crowley winked.</p><p>“Should I ever forgive myself enough to try again, I’ll be sure to ask for your help.”</p><p>“Now that I know you’re definitely not a gardener, what do you do for fun? Can’t just sit there and read Bibles all day, I’d imagine.”</p><p>Aziraphale was relieved for the change in subject. “You’re quite right. As much as I love the Bible, I would go insane if that’s all I did… I can’t remember the last time I was asked that question, Crowley. Give me a moment to think.”</p><p>“S’fine. Just make sure you answer before I die and you have to perform a secular burial,” Crowley snarked.</p><p>Aziraphale shot him a disapproving look. “Please do not joke about death, Crowley. I’ve seen far too many of them. I’ve performed too many burials over my years of ministry to think it’s humorous.”</p><p>“Sorry, angel. Didn’t mean to upset you,” Crowley said apologetically. He made a mental note to keep gallows humor to a minimum.</p><p>“It’s okay, Crowley. You didn’t know. Now let’s get back to your original question. No need to dwell on this subject any longer… Reading is my favorite hobby. My office and my apartment are quite full of them. Poetry, old classics, contemporary queer literature… Those are my current delights. I collect first and second editions. On the rare occasion that I can afford them. The ones I have are usually in quite poor condition. I’ve been able to restore a few, but it takes time that I often do not have. I’m not the greatest cook, but I enjoy baking. In fact, I bake the communion bread for my church. Can’t have them eating those bland, papery wafers.”</p><p>“Those never seemed hearty enough to be the Body of Christ. Good on you, Aziraphale.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “I must say I agree with you, dear fellow. If we believe that it is in fact the Body of Christ—transubstantiation, for the formal term—then I think fresh bread made with love is best. Along with baking, I also enjoy going for strolls through town and the park. It always helps clear my head, and I’ve had some of my best sermon ideas while out and about.”</p><p>“Can I ask you something?”</p><p>“Yes, Crowley?”</p><p>“Why don’t you drive? I mean walking everywhere s’nice and everything, but it must get old sometimes.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked embarrassed. “Well, I was going to learn how to drive when I arrived in Tadfield. I had a car and was about to take lessons. But then I… Gave it away,” Aziraphale whispered.</p><p>“You what?!” Crowley looked shocked.</p><p>“I gave it away! There was a family in my congregation who needed a new car. It was a young couple and she was expecting and their car broke down. It was beyond repair, and it was their only mode of transportation. Her spouse worked quite far away from Tadfield. Since I wasn’t yet using mine, I gave it to them. They needed it more than me. And I couldn’t afford another one myself, so I just learned the public transit system and found the places I could walk to.”</p><p>Crowley couldn’t believe what Aziraphale did. It was one of the most foolish and selfless acts he’d ever heard about in his life. But it made perfect sense. This was Aziraphale, a person who exuded love. Aziraphale showed it with his smile, his caring touch, his actions. In that moment, the butterflies came back with a vengeance. It felt as though they were attacking his stomach. It was in that moment that Crowley knew he was absolutely smitten.</p><p>They were both silent for a moment. Crowley broke it. “Well Aziraphale, I’ve got an idea. If you need a ride and I’m ‘round, let me know. Take you wherever you’d like. I drive an old Bentley. Fixed it up myself. Was the one thing that kept me sane when I lived in the city.”</p><p>Aziraphale blushed and gave him an awkward smile. It was dreadfully cute. “Oh Crowley, thank you. I deeply appreciate your offer. If I’m ever in a bit of a pickle, I will be sure to call you. I promise I will not take advantage of your kindness.”</p><p>“’M not kind,” Crowley muttered.</p><p>“You are, Crowley. And I’ll remind you of that whenever you need it. And thank you for not mocking me. Bishop Gabriel and my colleagues haven’t let me live that incident down. I’ve received enough judgment as it is, and I am thankful you didn’t treat me the same way,” Aziraphale said softly.</p><p>“I was right, y’know. ‘Bout you being an angel,” Crowley smiled.</p><p>“Oh hush, you.” Aziraphale looked away for a moment, and something caught his attention. His eyes widened, he wiggled, and a big grin formed on his face. “Crowley, look over there!”</p><p>Aziraphale pointed to a booth nearby. There were pumpkins of all shapes and sizes, and a few carving stations. The money raised went to the local children’s hospital. Before Aziraphale could say anything else, Crowley got up, grabbed Aziraphale by the hand, and took him over to the booth. Aziraphale was glad he was holding the paper bag in his other hand. The last thing he wanted was to lose Crowley’s gift.</p><p>“Two pumpkins, please,” Crowley said. He handed the volunteers a few hundred dollars. Aziraphale didn’t know just yet, but Crowley loved children. Always wanted to have them, but it never worked out. This was the least he could do to show his compassion for them.</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley each chose a pumpkin and made their way to the carving stations. All the tools were laid out. They rolled up their sleeves and got to work.</p><p>“Crowley, that was incredibly thoughtful. Giving Kora and Adelaide such a large tip and making such a significant donation to Tadfield Children’s Hospital. Please do not take this as me putting my religious values on you. Hear me in your secular language. I am blessed to know you, Crowley. What you’ve done is an important reminder for me in my own life. There may be many difficult things happening, but people are a gift. And you, good fellow, are one of them.”</p><p>Crowley stopped carving his pumpkin. He looked in Aziraphale’s eyes. They were welled up with tears. Thankfully, Crowley could tell they were happy tears. Aziraphale had the most beautiful smile on his face. Soft, sweet, and so filled with love. Crowley couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him that way. Said something nice about him that wasn’t about his job performance. The intensity of it almost caused Crowley physical pain.</p><p>“Ngk,” Crowley responded. He wanted to say something, but nothing came. They stared at each other for a moment longer and went back to carving. Neither of them said anything until they were finished.</p><p>“Crowley, look what I made!” Aziraphale proudly held up his pumpkin. It was a ghost with a big smile on its face, saying “Boo!” It was by far the cutest ghost Crowley had ever seen.</p><p>“I like spooky things, and that ain’t it. But I like it though. Cute,” Crowley smiled.</p><p>“Spooky has never been my specialty, Crowley. Now cute and harmless, I am definitely capable of. My little ghost friend here agrees. Now show me what you’ve come up with, good fellow.”</p><p>“Feed me, Seymour!” Crowley exclaimed as he showed off his work. His artistic skills and knowledge of plants were clearly visible. Anyone who was in the know would have no doubt it was Audrey II.</p><p>“Seymour?” Aziraphale looked puzzled.</p><p>Crowley’s looked offended. “Feed me Seymour! Y’know, Audrey II said it in Little Shop of Horrors. Killer plant, ate people? Angel, don’t tell me you’ve never seen it!”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “I’m afraid not, Crowley. If it’s not too spooky, perhaps we could watch it together sometime. I am rather impressed with your carving abilities. I thought it was your Cow Plant, but clearly there isn’t an udder or horns.”</p><p>“Next pumpkin I carve will have to have her on it. She’s a beaut…” Aziraphale’s first comment finally sunk in. He blushed. “Y-yeah, I’d love to watch it with you, Aziraphale. Little Shop of Horrors is actually gonna be performed at the civic theatre here this weekend. Want to go to the Sunday afternoon showing? Could snag us some tickets, if you’d like. Was planning on going and it’d be more fun with company.”</p><p>“That sounds lovely, Crowley. On one condition.” Aziraphale pulled out his wallet and put some money in Crowley’s hand. “I indulge in the civic theatre often, and I know this is exactly what the tickets will cost. Please use my money for this. I insist.”</p><p>“You got a deal, angel.”</p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale grabbed their pumpkins and walked back to the entrance. Vendors were packing up, and it was time for them to part ways for the night. Neither wanted to leave, but Aziraphale had a long day ahead of him tomorrow.</p><p>“I’ll have to come back here. Thought it was going to be pretty lame, tell you the truth. But I had a lot of fun,” Crowley offered Aziraphale a soft smile.</p><p>“Before we part, Crowley, I have a gift for you.” He handed Crowley the paper bag. “Don’t open it until you get home. Do be careful with it, good fellow. There is something quite precious inside.”</p><p>“Thanks, Aziraphale. Look forward to getting home and seeing what you got me. S’not a Bible, is it?”</p><p>Aziraphale smirked. “You’d know if it was. After all, you’d burst into flames.”</p><p>Crowley laughed. “Got that right. Don’t let me get near anything sacred.”</p><p>“I promise to keep you away from such things. Goodnight, Crowley. Mind how you go, and watch for deer. There are quite a lot this time of year.”</p><p>“Night, angel. I’ll go 70 instead of the usual 90.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale walked away, and Crowley got into his car. Crowley still drove 90 miles an hour to his cottage. He was far too excited about his gift to slow down. As soon as he pulled into his driveway, he grabbed the bag and ran into the house. The pumpkin could wait.</p><p>Crowley carefully opened the bag and pulled out the gift. It was a healthy, lovely Venus Flytrap.</p><p>“Oh, angel,” Crowley closed his eyes and sighed. He held the plant tight to his chest. “Don’t get too comfortable; you won’t be getting special treatment like this forever,” Crowley whispered to the plant. It shivered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for all of your comments and encouragement! I will eventually respond, I'm just not great about it. But please know I love reading them and they make my days brighter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was true that Aziraphale liked using real life examples in his sermons from time to time. Events he found in the newspaper, people who exemplified Christianity at its best, stories he’d heard over the years. But he avoided talking about his own life. Aziraphale kept a lot to himself for fear of judgment, mockery, and rejection. He’d experienced it too much in his life. Aziraphale’s anxiety and past pain were the mortar that kept the bricks of the walls he’d built from collapsing. And so, even though his congregants thought they knew him, they did not <em>really </em>know him. The last person who truly knew him died in 1985…It had been such a lonely road since then.</p><p>But this Sunday’s sermon was different. He was going to talk about his life. A happy, lovely part of his life: Crowley. He had so much fun Friday evening that he couldn’t think of anything—or anyone—else. For the first time in many years, Aziraphale found a friend. He felt optimistic. Hopeful that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be so alone. And he couldn’t help but bring that joy to his congregants.</p><p>Joshua, the oldest congregant, was tasked with reading the morning’s scripture. Aziraphale had a deep love and appreciation for him. Joshua was 90 years old, strong and fierce in his convictions. Fortunately for Aziraphale, his convictions were on the progressive side. In fact, Joshua was Aziraphale’s biggest supporter. The congregation knew that Aziraphale was transgender before he arrived; Bishop Gabriel told them without his consent. Aziraphale was anxious to begin his pastorate there because of what the bishop had done. He’d hoped to share his gender identity with the congregation himself, but Bishop Gabriel robbed him of that opportunity. But the moment Aziraphale set foot in the church for the first time, Joshua was there. He held a trans flag in one hand and pink, white, and blue flowers in the other. With a big smile, Joshua told him, “Welcome to Tadfield, Pastor Fell. We love you just as you are here.” If anyone was an angel, it was Joshua.</p><p>In a loud, booming voice, Joshua read the passage:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span class="u">Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 (The Message)</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em><sup>9-10 </sup>It’s better to have a partner than go it alone.</em>
  <em><br/>
Share the work, share the wealth.<br/>
And if one falls down, the other helps,<br/>
But if there’s no one to help, tough!</em>
</p><p>
  <em><sup>11 </sup>Two in a bed warm each other.</em>
  <em><br/>
Alone, you shiver all night.</em>
</p><p>
  <em><sup>12 </sup>By yourself you’re unprotected.</em>
  <em><br/>
With a friend you can face the worst.<br/>
Can you round up a third?<br/>
A three-stranded rope isn’t easily snapped.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>When Joshua finished reading, he walked over to Aziraphale. He gently put his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He leaned down and whispered, “Pastor Fell, don’t forget that you don’t have to go it alone.” Aziraphale patted Joshua’s hand, and they smiled at each other for a moment before Joshua returned to his seat.</p><p>As Aziraphale prepared to give his message, he made eye contact with Joshua. The man gave him a big smile and winked. Aziraphale’s heart swelled with love. Joshua’s support helped ease his anxiety about sharing a part of his life with the church.</p><p>
  <em>When we try to live our lives alone, it can be quite difficult to feel the presence of our beloved Christ Jesus. He tells us that we will feel him the most “when two or three are gathered.” Jesus understood the importance of community, told us that we must work together. He did not believe that we could go it alone. Or, if I may be so bold, that Jesus alone is not enough. We need a friend or two to accompany us. When we are together, we can feel the love and blessing of Christ’s care and teachings. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I believe that today’s passage speaks deeply to Jesus’ message. Our scripture reminds us that “it’s better to have a partner than to go it alone…If one falls down, the other helps.” Now as your pastor, I must practice what I preach. If I had to preach on this passage two weeks ago, I would have had little to say. I must confess that I have spent much of my time alone as of late, except for my time with you. I am an introvert by nature. I dearly enjoy a cup of tea, a good book, and a cozy chair. However I have grown far too comfortable being by myself. Sometimes it affects my ability to feel God’s presence.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was on Friday that I remembered a long-forgotten truth: it’s better to have a partner than to go it alone. I went to the Farmer’s Market with a friend on my day off. We laughed, ate a delightful meal courtesy of Adelaide and Kora, and even carved pumpkins for charity. It was the most fun I have had in months. For the first time in quite a long while I felt the presence of Jesus alongside me. Jesus was in the face of my friend. He was in the face of Adelaide and Kora. To allow people into our lives is to allow Jesus into our lives, too. It is my hope that you all have a dear friend in your life who will help you up if you fall. A person who every time you look into their eyes, you see the beautiful face of Christ looking back at you. </em>
</p><p>After the service and greetings came to an end, Joshua came up to Aziraphale. He gave him a big hug and whispered, “You finally look happy. God blessed you with a spiritual friend. Cherish every moment, Pastor Fell. People like your friend don’t come along every day.”</p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t agree more.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Oi! Angel!” Crowley yelled and waved. Aziraphale quickly crossed the street. In his excitement to see Crowley he didn’t bother to look both ways. Fortunately, the car he walked in front of slammed on their brakes in time. Aziraphale nearly fainted, and Crowley burst out laughing.</p><p>Once Aziraphale caught his breath, he went to the driver’s side of the car to apologize. “My dear, I am so, so sorry for putting you in such an awful position. I offer my sincerest apologies.” The driver rolled their eyes, honked their horn, and flipped Aziraphale off before speeding away.</p><p>Aziraphale scurried over to Crowley’s side. “Good fellow, that was not funny! I could have been dismembered!”</p><p>“That bloke was only going 20 or 25! At most you would’ve had a light tumble over the hood of his car. You’d be just fine, so I was in the right to laugh.” Crowley chuckled.</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes and sighed. “I suppose at least I will not have to pay for any damages to his vehicle. I would have left quite a dent if he would have hit me.” He patted his belly.</p><p>Crowley wasn’t sure if Aziraphale was being self-depreciating or not. He had the urge to tell Aziraphale how perfect, how gorgeous, how incredible his body was. But Crowley knew that wasn’t appropriate, and it wasn’t the time for such things.  He didn’t want to ruin their budding friendship. He decided to change the subject.</p><p>“Ready for a good show? Got your ticket right here.” Crowley reached into his snakeskin purse and pulled out their tickets. Aziraphale gently took his from Crowley’s hands.</p><p>“Thank you, Crowley. I must admit I hardly slept last night.”</p><p>Crowley cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “Feeling a little scared? Big bad Audrey II from my pumpkin invade your brain?”</p><p>“I am not afraid of some fake plant, Crowley! I meant that I have been anticipating watching this play with you. I do so love plays, and I have truly enjoyed our outings together. My excitement invaded my brain, not some carving. Now let’s get a wiggle on, it’ll be starting soon.” Aziraphale responded.</p><p>“Get a wiggle on? You do the wiggling. I’d prefer to slither.”</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and they entered the theatre together.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After “Little Shop of Horrors” concluded, Aziraphale and Crowley decided to have an early dinner. Aziraphale had things to finish up, but they could wait. He deserved to have fun with his new friend. Crowley reminded him that engaging with his congregants was not enough. His congregants were not his friends. But Crowley could be a companion. He wasn’t a congregant, had no desire to be a part of the Beloved Disciples. Crowley didn’t expect anything from him except quality time. Today, and as long as Crowley was in his life, Aziraphale would make good on his promise to practice what he preached that morning.</p><p>Being around Aziraphale made Crowley feel special. It was a bizarre feeling. Uncomfortable, sometimes disorienting. Aziraphale saw all the times Crowley turned people away. The ways that Crowley teased them, flirted when them, then let them down, sometimes quite rudely. Aziraphale watched Crowley sneer and heard him hiss when some people came too close to his table. Crowley was clearly a solitary person who didn’t entertain the thought of allowing people in his life. Yet Aziraphale approached him. He sat with him, asked about his life. Wanted to get to know him, hoped that Crowley would call him. Aziraphale invited him to the farmer’s market, where he <em>knew almost everyone. </em>Aziraphale wanted to be seen in public with him. Crowley didn’t get it, but he enjoyed it. He adored the angel and would take every opportunity he could get to be in his bright presence.</p><p>“What’d you think of the play? Won’t be having any nightmares, will you?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “It was not nearly as spooky as your pumpkin made it out to be. I usually watch the classics. Shakespeare’s plays are most incredible. I cannot recall the last time I saw a modern musical. It was loud at times, but I enjoyed it. Thank you for introducing it to me.”</p><p>“Glad you stepped out of your comfort zone, angel. I’ll keep an eye out for newer stuff. Happy to see Shakespeare plays too. Especially the funny ones.” Crowley took a sip of coffee before continuing. “‘M impressed with the talent here. People performing for free and enjoying every minute. No way would I spend all that time practicing if I didn’t see a dime.”</p><p>“We are blessed beyond measure to have them. The love and energy they put into each performance is awe-inspiring. I must concur with you, Crowley, that I would not put in that much time and effort either. With the free time I have, I would much prefer to read, go out for a nice stroll, and be entertained. I must say that I have most enjoyed your delightful company.”</p><p>He noticed Aziraphale’s cheeks turned pink. Crowley didn’t think he could be any more smitten. He was wrong.</p><p>“Agreed, angel. First person who I actually wanted to sit with me at the coffee shop. Glad you startled me,” Crowley grinned. Aziraphale’s blush deepened.</p><p>Dessert came, and Aziraphale wiggled in his seat at the sight. It was a large piece of strawberry cake with pink frosting in between the layers. Crowley tried to focus on his coffee, but it was no use. He couldn’t help but watch Aziraphale eat. He moaned in delight with each bite. He closed his eyes and savored the sweet, sugary dessert. Crowley thought it was sinful for someone to be so beautiful when they ate. He hoped someday he could cook Aziraphale a meal, be the one who gave him so much pleasure.</p><p>“That was scrumptious,” Aziraphale said, his voice filled with ecstasy. Crowley handed him a napkin and he dabbed at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>“So, you got plans Friday? I’m taking the day off and had an idea of something fun we could do,” Crowley asked.</p><p>Aziraphale frowned. “Unfortunately, I have to work on Friday. Bishop Gabriel has an assignment for me. It’s an engagement that I cannot get out of, I’m afraid. The diocese already paid for this, and I’m quite trapped.”</p><p>“What’s he got you doing, angel? Fulfilling the Great Plan?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded and looked down. He was clearly embarrassed. “Crowley, please do not take what I say as my own beliefs. I meant it when I said I do not want to convert anyone or convince them to come to my church. I hope that you never forget that my time with you has nothing to do with ministry.”</p><p>“I know. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>Aziraphale continued. “Of course, not trying to ‘save souls’ is not in line with what the bishop expects of me. Bishop Gabriel paid for a booth at the antique festival that is occurring Friday through Sunday. As this is a smaller community, there are quite a few church and business booths. I must sit there all three days. He would not allow me to ask for assistance. He will be preaching in my place on Sunday.”</p><p>Crowley sneered. “Sounds like a real wanker. Shouldn’t people from your church be there too?”</p><p>“Well… Bishop Gabriel would never admit to it, but I know that this is a punishment. He knows I do not want to do this. Because I have disappointed him, this is his payback. Bishop Gabriel has never liked me and did not want me here in the first place. Any opportunity he can get to make my life difficult, he takes,” Aziraphale said quietly. He couldn’t meet Crowley’s gaze.</p><p>“Angel, look at me. No way in Someone would I ever come to church, but I can tell you’re a bloody good pastor. Why didn’t he want you here?”</p><p>Aziraphale did as Crowley asked. He sighed. “I realize that I have not told you something important about myself. Not out of fear of you, it just has not come up. Crowley, I am a transgender man, and I am gay. Although the Beloved Disciples have been accepting of people like us for many years, not every church or leader practices what we are supposed to preach. Bishop Gabriel is quite homophobic and transphobic. He outed me to my congregation before I even arrived. He had hoped they would hate me before I arrived. Fortunately, my congregation accepted me right away, even though I’ve had to educate them about our community.”</p><p>Anger flashed across Crowley’s face. He slammed his fist on the table, startling Aziraphale and other diners. Crowley gritted his teeth. “You’re telling me that asshole Gabriel hates you because you’re queer? What a bunch of bullocks. There is NOTHING wrong with us, Aziraphale. NOTHING. You’re a good person, and who you are is perfect. We aren’t the problem, bastards like Gabriel are. A guy like that shouldn’t be your boss. How the fuck did he get high up in the food chain? You don’t deserve to be treated like this. If I ever see him…”</p><p>Without a second though, Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s. It was something he did during pastoral care visits. Aziraphale’s touch soothed and comforted people. There was a warmth to it that went beyond his body temperature. It was as if God infused him with Her love and light. Crowley took a deep breath and settled.</p><p>“You’re right, Crowley. There is nothing wrong with me, wrong with us. We are fearfully and wonderfully made by our Creator. Do what you will with that language. This is the reality of being a transgender pastor. It does not matter where I go, what denomination I am ordained in. There are people like Bishop Gabriel everywhere. His words and actions hurt me deeply, I will admit. I cry after every visit with him. But then I remember my flock, the people I serve. I remember that even if there are people who think I am an abomination, God does not think so. My flock does not think so. God wants me here. I am here to love them and care for them. Bishop Gabriel will never be able to take my Call away, even if someday he succeeds in getting rid of me. I will never not be a minister,” Aziraphale said in a soft yet strong voice.</p><p>Crowley turned his hand and held Aziraphale’s in his. “I don’t get how or why you can stay. To each his own, I s’pose. If that wanker upsets you, I want you to call me. We can talk on the phone, go for a walk, get an ice cream, drive ‘round. You ask and I’ll come. You don’t have to deal with this shit alone. One queer to another. We gotta stick together, yeah? Promise me.”</p><p>“I promise, Crowley. Thank you. I appreciate you, good fellow.” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand. They smiled at each other.</p><p>After a few moments, Aziraphale carefully took his hand away from Crowley’s. He pulled out his pocket watch and realized that it was getting late. How long had they stayed at the diner? At least two hours, if he remembered correctly. Time perfectly spent.</p><p>“Time to get home to finish your pastorly duties, angel?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “As much I don’t wish to leave, I know I must. Please be thinking of me this upcoming weekend. It is going to take quite a toll on me.”</p><p>“’Course. Bring a book or two, you’re going to need it. Maybe some queer romance, get the Fundies squirming in their seats,” Crowley smirked.</p><p>“I must say, that does sound rather tempting. Before we part ways, do you know if you are available Sunday evening? If so, would you care to get a drink?”</p><p>Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Alcohol?” Aziraphale nodded. “I love a stiff drink, angel. But I thought you only drank the Blood of Christ. Your denomination doesn’t give a shit if you drink off the clock?”</p><p>“No, thank goodness. The only one who frowns upon it is Bishop Gabriel, but he does not own my personal time. I’m rather fond of red wines. There is a delightful winery just outside of town. They have great appetizers, and they help you find the right wine pairing for whatever you choose. They stay open late on Sundays, though I haven’t the slightest idea why. It’s worked well for them. Every time I’ve gone they’ve been busy. Does that sound like something you’d enjoy?”</p><p>“Perfect, angel. Hope to see you ‘round the coffee shop this week.”</p><p>“You will. Please feel free to sit and chat with me for a while, if I am not with a congregant,” Aziraphale said with a soft smile.</p><p>“Be careful with your offer, Aziraphale. May just have to pretend to go to your church so you can give me your undivided pastoral care,” Crowley winked, and Aziraphale laughed.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>On Friday afternoon, Crowley sauntered into the entrance of the antique festival. He didn’t go solely because Aziraphale was there (though that was one reason). Crowley took the day off work specifically so he could enjoy a lazy Friday there. He was looking for an interesting piece of furniture for his home. Crowley had a good feeling that a vendor would have exactly what he was looking for.</p><p>He was also in the mood for a little mischief. Crowley was tickled to know there were religious booths at the festival. He would gladly take any chance to make them squirm. After all Christians had done to him over the years, Crowley wanted to get a little payback. Crowley dressed appropriately. Red lipstick, wavy hair cascading down his shoulders, and butterfly shades. A short, tight black dress that fell above the knee. He paired it with a snakeskin jacket and matching heels. He didn’t bother wearing tights or leggings; it was warm enough that his legs were just fine. A portion of his tattoo was visible: on his right side, the tail of a snake began at his ankle and was coiled around his leg. It disappeared past the hem of his dress. The look was perfect for making the bigots uncomfortable. And in the back of his mind, Crowley hoped Aziraphale would love it.</p><p>Crowley first perused the antique booths. It didn’t take long for him to find exactly what he was looking for. It was an old throne, in pristine condition. It was gold, and the seat and back were red velvet. A crown design was on the top, and the arms were lion’s faces. The legs of the chair were lion’s paws. Fit for a queen. Better yet, fit for one Anthony J. Crowley. He paid cash for it and scheduled a time for it to be delivered to his cottage. It was far too big for Crowley to bring it home in the Bentley.</p><p>After he purchased his beloved throne, Crowley made his way to the religious booths. He walked with a pronounced sway. Crowley turned heads with his outfit and the serpentine movements of his body. Lust, disgust, and curiosity permeated the air. He could almost taste it on his tongue. It brought Crowley a great deal of satisfaction and stoked his ego.</p><p>In his adventures, two booths in particular stuck out to him. The first was the Rapture Church. Crowley remembered Aziraphale mentioning that they used a large inflatable pool to baptize people.</p><p>The pastor stood up, looked at him, and pointed at him. He looked at Crowley with a hunger in his eyes. A hunger to save a soul. “Woman, have you accepted Christ and your Lord and Savior? Are you prepared for the Day of Judgment?” the pastor asked.</p><p>Crowley hadn’t been called a woman for a long time. He liked it. Crowley responded with a lilt to his voice. “No, I haven’t. The right pastor hasn’t come along to help me surrender to Jesus…”</p><p>The pastor’s eyes lit up. “You’ve met the right pastor. Today, in this very place, God has called you. He has called you to this very table to be ministered to. He wants you to surrender, dedicate your life and soul to Him. He wants you to be saved from the eternal flames. Woman, do you want to get right with God? Do you accept Christ into your heart? Do you want to be saved?” He reached over and grabbed Crowley by the hand.</p><p>“Oh yes, pastor! Save me, save my soul!” Crowley said dramatically and put his hand across his forehead.</p><p>The pastor gripped Crowley’s hand tighter and brought him behind the tent. There was a kiddie pool filled with water. He was shocked to see a rubber duck floating in it.</p><p>“Woman, you must be baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost! Today is the day, your soul will be saved and when Christ rises again, you will be raptured to Heaven!”</p><p>Before the pastor could baptize him, Crowley yanked his hand away. With a smirk, Crowley “accidentally” bumped the pastor with his hip, sending him into the pool. The pastor stared at Crowley in surprise.</p><p>“Looks like you were the one needing your soul saved, pastor man. You can thank me in your prayers tonight,” Crowley smirked and sauntered away. He could hear the pastor yelling not-quite-but-close-enough swear words at him.</p><p>Not far from the Rapture Church booth, Crowley was surprised to see Beelzebub. They were sitting at a booth, along with his coworkers Hastur and Ligur. Hastur was wearing his horrible blonde wig that wasn’t fooling anyone. His skin was always smudged with dirt and grime from tending the gardens. Crowley wondered when the last time he bathed was. Although Ligur shared the same role, he was always clean as a whistle. Per his rank in the Devilist faith, Ligur always carried a large lizard around with him. It had some sacred purpose that he refused to explain to Crowley. Currently it was perched atop his head.</p><p>“How’d you get roped into this? Beez gonna give you a raise? Give you another lizard, Ligur? Let you use their shower, Hastur?”</p><p>Hastur and Ligur scowled.</p><p>“Shut up, pest,” Ligur hissed.</p><p>Beez glared at Crowley. “We’re here to win souls, Crowley. Unless you wish you bow down to the Devil and to me, then don’t waste our time.”</p><p>“What if I wanted to? Wake up every morning, say twelve “Hail Devils” before I get my list of assignments for the day. Spend the day causing trouble, winning some souls for our Master. Say another twelve “Hail Devils” before bedtime and sacrifice some crickets to the sacred lizard. Make me your disciple, Lord Beez.” Crowley held up his arms and threw his head back in mockery.</p><p>Hastur frothed at the mouth in anger. “Do not mock the Devil, Crowley! You are not worthy to even have His name on your lips!”</p><p>“Well, Crowley, you certainly act enough like a demon to join us…” Beez handed Crowley some Devilist pamphlets. “Now get out of my sight, or you’re going to be spending the week working closely with Hastur and Ligur.”</p><p>Hastur and Ligur looked at them in disgust. Beez continued. “You spoke without me permitting you to speak. You deserve punishment as much as Crowley if this continues. When we are at the Botanical Gardens, you are free to speak. But when you are here, with your Lord, you are to wait.”</p><p>“Thanks for the pamphlets. S’pose I better get going before I’m wielding a shovel and covered in fertilizer made of horse shit. See ya Monday,” Crowley shot them a grin and walked away before they could respond.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley harassed a few more religious people until he saw Aziraphale’s booth. Aziraphale was focused on a book, his hand resting on his chin. As much as he loved reading, Crowley could tell his friend was bored. Crowley scurried away before Aziraphale noticed him. He didn’t want to visit with him just yet.</p><p>“A corn dog, an elephant ear, and two large lemonades, please,” Crowley put in an order at one of the many food stands. Unlike the farmer’s market, there wasn’t much variety. It was all fried foods, sugary sweets, and soft drinks. He wasn’t sure exactly what Aziraphale would like, but he was optimistic that his choices would go over well.</p><p>“Hello Aziraphale! Glad you took my advice to bring a book,” Crowley slid into the chair next to him.</p><p>Aziraphale’s face lit up when he saw Crowley. He couldn’t believe it. He figured if Crowley came to this, he would avoid the church booths like the plague. When he thought Crowley wasn’t looking, Aziraphale took the opportunity to take his appearance in. Crowley had the longest, loveliest legs he’d ever seen. Aziraphale was a little surprised by the tattoo; he couldn’t help but wonder exactly where it ended.</p><p>“Looked hungry, so I brought you a spot of lunch. I expect you to share a little bit of that elephant ear. That cinnamon is too sinful for me not to want a bite,” Crowley said as he handed Aziraphale the corn dog and lemonade. He put the elephant ear on the table between them.</p><p>“Oh thank you, Crowley. You didn’t need to go out of your way to get me lunch, but I do appreciate it. Are you comfortable being here? With all this,” Aziraphale waved his hand with the corn dog in it around, “all this church business surrounding us?”</p><p>“Actually, angel, any chance I get to make religious people uncomfortable I take it. S’why I dressed a little more sexy than normal. Want to know what I did before I came to see you?” Crowley smirked.</p><p>Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “What did you do, Crowley?”</p><p>“Oh you’re going to love this. I remembered that church you told me about with the kiddie pool baptisms. So I went up to the pastor, and he asked if I wanted to be saved today. I played it up, said I did. Aziraphale, my performance was almost as good as what we saw Sunday. I had this guy convinced. When he dragged me to the back to be baptized, I bumped him into the pool. Who would’ve thought I’d be in the baptizing business?”</p><p>Aziraphale burst out laughing. He felt a little bad for the pastor, but not nearly enough to stop. How could anyone look at Crowley and think he’d be interested in whatever salvation a church offered? But then Aziraphale remembered that there were people like that pastor, like Bishop Gabriel who tried to pray on people who looked a little wayward. Different. Like fallen angels looking for the grace of God. Crowley certainly looked that way sometimes. His clothes, his mannerisms, the way he always stuck out in a crowd.</p><p>“I take it your mischief meter is full, good fellow?”</p><p>Crowley chuckled. “You bet, angel. You have any luck bringing the Great Plan to fruition?”</p><p>“There have been a few people who came to speak with me. Some dropped by to say that my church was going against God’s will because we accept pansies. That’s to be expected, I’m afraid. It doesn’t bother me anymore; I know in my heart they’re wrong. But there have been a few positive encounters. A few people have taken some of the flag buttons I’ve brought along with me. People like booths with “swagger” these days,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>Crowley groaned. “It’s SWAG.”</p><p>“Close enough,” Aziraphale replied before taking a bite of his corn dog.</p><p>As Aziraphale was occupied with his lunch, Crowley looked through the basket of buttons. There were flag designs that he’d never even seen before. It made him smile to know so many queer people were finding pride in who they were and making flags that represented their true selves. It was a hopeful reminder that things were much better than when he was in his twenties. Crowley picked out a bisexual button and pinned it to his jacket. He found another one that caught his interest: it was pink, white, purple, black and blue.</p><p>“Aziraphale, what’s this flag represent?”</p><p>“Oh, that’s the genderfluid flag! Isn’t it lovely?”</p><p>Crowley pinned it to his jacket. “I didn’t know there was a flag for people like me. Exciting to know someone figured this out.”</p><p>“I’m glad I was able to help, Crowley. I must say, they look lovely with your outfit.” Aziraphale said with a sweet smile.</p><p>“You know how it is Aziraphale. Gotta remind the world that I’m here, I’m queer, and they’ll just have to get used to it.”</p><p>“Indeed, good fellow. Indeed.”</p><p>Crowley spent the weekend with Aziraphale at the festival. He’d get them things to nibble, they’d bicker and banter, and they basked in the warmth of each other’s company. Aziraphale was thankful for Crowley’s companionship. He turned an awful situation into a weekend he never wanted to forget.</p><p>Every time he looked at Crowley, he thought back to last week’s scripture: <em>It’s better to have a partner than go it alone.</em><em> Share the work, share the wealth. </em></p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Sunday evening, Crowley and Aziraphale went to the “Grape Expectations Winery” on the outskirts of town. Aziraphale nearly threw up from Crowley’s fast, erratic driving. At one point, Aziraphale even almost wet his pants from fright. They just barely missed hitting a deer, the exact thing he’d warned Crowley about days ago!</p><p>“We’re here, angel. Take some deep breaths, wasn’t that bad.”</p><p>Aziraphale took and deep breath and responded. “You go too fast for me, Crowley. In the future if I’m going to ride with you, please mind the speed limit.”</p><p>“Can’t guarantee it, angel. Riding with me’s not that bad when you get used to it.” Crowley laughed. Aziraphale was not amused.</p><p>Crowley got out and opened Aziraphale’s door. He offered Aziraphale his hand to help steady him, and he graciously took it. Crowley took the lead and brought them both into the winery. Once they were seated and Aziraphale got his bearings again, everything was back to normal.</p><p>Aziraphale ordered several appetizers to split, and flights of wine for both of them to enjoy. Each one was paired with a different dish. This food was so much better than all the greasy stuff from the fair. Both Crowley and Aziraphale were thankful for a decadent meal.</p><p>As always, conversation flowed naturally between them. Spending the whole weekend together only made it better.</p><p>“Crowley, thank you for spending the weekend with me at that booth. It must’ve been terribly boring. Without you, I do not know if I would’ve survived,” Aziraphale said before taking a sip of a lovely rosé.</p><p>“Had a good time. Wasn’t doing anything anyway and hanging out with you was better than the alternative. Would’ve just stayed at home, watched tv or trolled people on Former.”</p><p>“Trolling? Former? I must admit I don’t know what those are,” Aziraphale admitted.</p><p>Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “You can’t be serious. Over fifty years on this planet and you don’t know?!”</p><p>“Fifty-nine, to be specific. And some of us are simply not well-versed in today’s lingo.”</p><p>“I’ll forgive you for being a dinosaur. Just this once. Okay, so remember how I told you about what I did to that pastor on Friday? And on Saturday when I went up to the First Day Believers and argued with them until they shooed me away? And Sunday morning, when I told those blokes from the Holy Seed Tabernacle that condoms are a thing and that their jizz isn’t sacred?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “How could I possibly forget, Crowley. Those men yelled so loud that I believe my hearing is permanently damaged.”</p><p>Crowley smirked. “Music to my ears. But anyway, take that and put it online. That’s trolling. I troll on Former. Best medium to do it. Former is this site where you post things called Forms. You only get a certain amount of characters to do it. Like mini-blogging kinda. You write your own or you can comment on other people’s Forms. So I usually look for Christians and argue with them until they get so pissed that they block me. Total’s up to seventy so far.”</p><p>“Oh my. May I ask what you usually say to people? What groups of Christians?” Aziraphale asked. He was starting to feel anxious. Did Crowley think this poorly of him? Did he want to ‘troll’ him too? Crowley had been respectful of him for the most part, but Aziraphale felt a pang of doubt hit him.</p><p>Crowley finished a bite of bruschetta and answered. “Yeah, ‘course you can ask me, angel. Y’know, fundies, Christians that hate us, are racist, ‘prosperity gospel’ wankers. They spew their biblical inerrancy, hateful beliefs, that whole ‘if you aren’t Christian you’re going to burn in hell forever’ bullshit. So I push them and push them about their beliefs. Demand explanations from them and force them to actually think about what they’re saying. Usually back up my arguments against them with facts. Actually keep a Bible on my end table to use against them. ‘S fun. Get back at those bastardsss for all the harm they’ve done,” a devilish grin formed on Crowley’s face. Aziraphale found it uncomfortably endearing.</p><p>“Please do not take this the wrong way, Crowley, but I have a question.”</p><p>“Shoot. Y’know I’ll give you an answer unless it’s too personal,” Crowley responded.</p><p>Aziraphale looked away and fidgeted with his pinkie ring. “H-how do you feel about me? The Beloved Disciples? My vocation as a pastor?”</p><p>Crowley studied Aziraphale’s face. He could tell Aziraphale was anxious to hear his response and also a little afraid. Aziraphale deserved honesty, even if some of Crowley’s truth would hurt his feelings.</p><p>“Angel, I don’t really get it, tell you the truth. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re a pastor and queer. Just seems like an oxymoron to me. How can you be a Christian and trans? Are there any churches that fully accept you?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, there aren’t. Even the OCC—Open Community Church—has people in it that are quite transphobic. And they are the ones who were created by and for queer people. It surprised me. I ended up looking for a denomination that had open and affirming policies but fit my beliefs. I share the most theological beliefs with the Beloved Disciples. Even though Bishop Gabriel and some of my colleagues treat me poorly, my congregants do not. They are who matter the most,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>“Sounds like it doesn’t really matter where you go,” Crowley said.</p><p>“No, it does not. Things have improved since my ordination in the early 80s, but I’m afraid the church still has a long way to go. I do not need to tell you that. What about your Forms? Do you argue with Christians like me?” Aziraphale swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure he’d like Crowley’s answer.</p><p>“When I comment on Forms and make my own, I don’t go after queer Christians. Could never do that. Don’t you all get punished enough? ‘M not going to go after my own community… Well, that’s not true. The ones that attack other queers that they exclude, yeah. See queer Christians pull that shit with each other and I troll them. But angel, I may not agree with you staying in the church but you get enough hate. I don’t hate you. You’re my friend. I just don’t understand you, angel.”</p><p>Aziraphale was silent, uncertain of how to respond. One of the things he appreciated the most about Crowley was his honesty. Aziraphale wished that he had the space to be more honest with himself and others. But his role as a transgender pastor forced him to play respectability politics often. He had to be patient, kind, pretend things did not hurt even when they did. He had to be a perfect example of a transgender person. It was one of the only ways Aziraphale knew how to protect the queer members of his flock. Did he speak the truth? Yes, sometimes. But only in ways that allies—especially those who were new—could handle. He had to have the ‘right tone,’ a gentle one that denied his anger and frustration. It hurt his heart, but it was all Aziraphale knew.</p><p>“I appreciate your candor, Crowley. I hope that you know that.”</p><p>“I do, but glad to hear it come out of your mouth all the same,” Crowley knocked back his glass of merlot.</p><p>Aziraphale paused for a moment, then continued. “There’s always a lot to discuss, and I look forward to all of our conversations. There are so many questions to ask, so many answers to give. I trust that you do not and will not troll me. Today, is there one thing you would like to ask me? Something that may help you understand my beliefs?”</p><p>“Just one… That’s tough. You prepared for plenty more in the future?” Crowley asked.</p><p>“Yes. I highly doubt that you’ll have any that surprise me. I’ve been a minister in some shape or form since 1980. Well, actually I suppose it was much earlier than that. But I was not ordained until then. So, good fellow, when you are ready ask whatever you wish,” Aziraphale gave Crowley a kind and inviting smile. It was his pastor’s smile; the one he gave when he wanted to fortify the walls he’d built around himself. But Crowley didn’t need to know that.</p><p>“This is a theology question. S’not about why you’re a pastor. Why you’ve stayed all these years. I can tell we need more time together before you’re ready for me to ask that. Been pondering something you said. The day we first met. When we were talking about the Cow Plant—named her Bessie, by the way—you said ‘truly ineffable what She does and why.’ What the Someone do you mean by ‘ineffable’? Never heard a minister say that before.”</p><p>Aziraphale loved this question. He wiggled a little in his seat. Crowley noticed and let out a soft chuckle.</p><p>“Crowley, what a brilliant question. I will admit, I say it rather often. You are one of the first people to ever ask me that. To believe God is ineffable has been both a comfort and a struggle for me. I wish to know everything about Her, to figure Her out. But I’m afraid there are no books, no amount of theologizing, no amount of conversations with others that can help me fully grasp God. I suppose no one can, and I believe that anyone who believes that they fully understand God is arrogant and terribly mistaken. Now, I recall you telling me that I’m an encyclopedia before, so let me begin with the definition.”</p><p>Crowley groaned, but Aziraphale pressed on.</p><p>“Ineffable is defined as ‘incapable of being expressed in words.’ God is so complex, so incredible, so beyond human understanding… How can I possibly understand or know our Creator’s plans, all Her works? Do I believe that She loves us and created us? I’ve no doubt of those things. I have experienced Her and She has guided me. I certainly know She has given me a Call. I dare say She has spoken to me a time or two. But the rest of it all… That is impossible to grasp in human language. When I think about how She is truly ineffable, Job comes to mind. It is quite comforting.”</p><p>Crowley looked confused. “Job? That’s one of the worst books in the Bible! God causes all of Job’s misery and his friends are all tossers! How can that be comforting to you?!”</p><p>“Well, you know that our sacred scripture is not literal, and this was the way the author of Job tried to make sense of God. It is incredibly beautiful. Job rejects his friends’ hurtful theology, shallow explanations, platitudes, beliefs that Job deserved his suffering. Job had the space to argue and challenge God. It points to the fact that we can say to Her whatever we need to. However, we often do not receive clear answers from Her. God responds to Job, but God never truly answers all of Job’s questions. She says all that She has done and asks if Job can truly comprehend it. He cannot. Whenever I am having a difficult time, I recite Job 42:1-6:</p><p><em>Then Job answered the </em> <em>Lord</em> <em>:</em></p><p><em>“I know that you can do all things,</em> <em><br/>    and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.<br/>‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’<br/>Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,<br/>    things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.<br/>‘Hear, and I will speak;<br/>    I will question you, and you declare to me.’<br/>I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear,<br/>    but now my eye sees you;<br/>therefore I despise myself,<br/>    and repent in dust and ashes.”</em></p><p>It is both humbling and empowering, Crowley. It reminds me that I cannot understand it all, and that I do not have to. As a man who loves reading and cannot help but try to attain as much knowledge as possible, it allows me to pause. I am also reminded that I must be humble as a pastor. I must be honest when I do not have an answer. I must speak the truth. And I must not pretend that I fully understand God.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked upwards. It was as though he was no longer speaking with Crowley, but to God. Crowley thought it was odd but wasn’t going to challenge him this time.</p><p>“Don’t think I’d ever in a million years go to Job for comfort, angel. But glad it reminds you to be humble and not to get an ego about it. Probably the only minister I’ve spoken to in a good long time that doesn’t act like God themselves,” Crowley responded.</p><p>“Good fellow, you are talking to the wrong pastors. There are more of us than you realize, I can assure you of that,” Aziraphale smiled and winked.</p><p>The time flew by, as it always did. Before they knew it, it was time to go. Crowley needed to get home and get his beauty sleep. Aziraphale didn’t have to worry; he could get up whenever he wanted tomorrow. But he respected Crowley’s time and didn’t want to keep him up too long. Aziraphale and Crowley split the check and left.</p><p>“Buckle up, angel. Use the ‘oh shit’ handles if you’ve gotta. Shoulda told you about them when you first got in. Sorry about that. Put those in just in case anyone needed them. I’ll get you home before you even realize it,” Crowley smirked like the bastard he was.</p><p>“If I vomit because of your reckless driving, do not expect me to pay for clean-up. It will be all your fault.” Aziraphale pre-emptively grabbed the ‘oh shit’ handle and took a deep breath.</p><p>Crowley sped out of the parking lot. If you asked Aziraphale, he did not yell. He was silent the whole ride back to his apartment. But if you asked Crowley, he’d tell you Aziraphale was full of shit.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As Crowley tended to Bessie on Monday afternoon, he thought about Aziraphale. He reflected on what he shared about his theological perspective. Crowley was loathe to admit it, but he respected Aziraphale’s answer. He was expecting Aziraphale to tell him something along the lines of ‘God is ineffable but I have Her figured out. I can lead you to the Truth.’ In his heart he knew Aziraphale was not that kind of man. But Crowley’s childhood trauma crept through and told him the opposite. At least, unlike the pastor of his youth, Aziraphale encouraged Crowley to ask questions.</p><p>“Bessie, are you ineffable?” he asked the Cow Plant in a terrible imitation of Aziraphale’s voice.</p><p>She shook her head ‘no.’ Somehow she knew that was the proper answer.</p><p>“Damn right you’re not. I know everything about you. Got the sketches ‘n everything. Think you deserve some lunch? Got a nice goat leg waiting for you. But you gotta tell me if you want it.”</p><p>Bessie enthusiastically shook her head up and down. Her mouth curled into a smile and all her teeth were visible. Crowley adored her and wished he could take her home. He wiggled the goat leg in front of her, and she took it without hesitation. As she chewed, Crowley patted her on the head. She purred in response.</p><p>“Getting soft with your method, Crowley.”</p><p>Crowley turned around and saw Hastur and Ligur standing behind him. Hastur was smoking some cheap cigarette and looked as grimy as always. Of course he wasn’t supposed to be smoking on the premises, but Hastur never listened. Ligur was glaring at him. His lizard was perched atop his shoulder and was giving Crowley a similar look.</p><p>“Don’t you two have some shit to play around in? Bet your lizard’s missing out on all the flies. And I bet the flies are missing you, Hastur,” Crowley grinned.</p><p>They stepped into Crowley’s personal space. Hastur blew smoke into his face. Without missing a beat, Crowley grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it beneath his heel.</p><p>“Give yourself a slow death all you want, but the plant doesn’t need to breath in your poor taste in tobacco.”</p><p>Ligur growled. “We need to have a discussion about Friday.” Crowley could’ve sworn he heard the lizard growl too.</p><p>Hastur reached up in a flash and snatched Crowley’s sunglasses off his face. Crowley immediately shut his eyes, protecting himself from the harsh lights of the room. He heard the crunch of sunglasses under Hastur’s shoe.</p><p>“Say the Devil’s name in vain around us again, Crowley, and it won’t just be your sunglasses we crush beneath our heel. Consider this a friendly warning,” Hastur said. Crowley couldn’t open his eyes, but he imagined there was a sneer on his face. He was thankful he didn’t have to look at Hastur’s stained, cracked teeth.</p><p>“Good luck with the rest of your shift. And don’t forget what we said. You won’t like what happens next time you disrespect us,” Ligur added. Crowley heard them toss something across the room before they left.</p><p>Crowley kept his eyes squeezed shut as he stumbled around, looking for his purse. There was a spare pair of sunglasses in there. He always put his purse in the same spot, but it wasn’t there. It clicked that they flung his purse somewhere else. “Fucking wankers…” Crowley muttered.</p><p>He came across his purse by accident. As he was feeling his way around, Crowley tripped over it. In the surprise of it he opened his eyes. The pain was intense. Ever since his run-in with a Wild Hogweed in undergrad, Crowley’s eyes were never the same. The sap permanently damaged them, resulting in severe photosensitivity. He was lucky that he wasn’t blinded, though he knew if that had happened he’d get by just fine.</p><p>“Shit, shit, shit!” Crowley gritted through his teeth. He scrambled to open his purse, and finally he found his sunglasses. Sweet, sweet relief. From now on, he knew he’d have to go about causing trouble for Hastur and Ligur in more covert ways.</p><p>As he caught his breath, the familiar ding of a notification caught his attention. Crowley dug through his purse and pulled out his cellphone. It was email from his favorite person. Crowley’s eyes still stung, but he couldn’t wait to read the message.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Crowley,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hope this email finds you well. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation last night. I have a deep respect for your questioning nature. I think it is admirable the way you are so honest. I wish I was more like you in those regards. Do know that I look forward to our continued conversations as time goes on. You are a joy to have in my life.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This morning, as I was enjoying a cup of hot cocoa and playing a game of Solitaire at my kitchen table, I was thinking about that website you were speaking of. I believe it was ‘Former’ though please forgive me if my “dinosaur brain” is failing me. While that format of communication is not well suited to who I am, it made me think about the Great Plan… I can hear your groan from here, Crowley. I hope that you will insert a witty comment here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Anyway, I believe I have an idea that will keep me from having to spend an entire weekend at a booth alone for quite some time. However, I need your help. I would like to set up a ‘social media’ presence for Tadfield Beloved Disciples Church. I have heard of MyBook. I also am curious about websites and ways that I could make our weekly newsletter look more aesthetically pleasing. As you know, I am quite old fashioned and have not kept up with technology the way you have. I do not have a computer in my office—our church cannot afford one—and my desktop is far too old and heavy to take to and from work. However, my computer does have the internet, as is clear from my emails. So it should work just dandy for this purpose.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If this is something you would be willing to assist me with, I would greatly appreciate it. It is quite all right if you decline. I do not know how much work this will be, though I can assure you I learn rather quickly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your Friend,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley was surprised. He didn’t expect Aziraphale to ever come up with an idea like that. Bloody brilliant. Even if Aziraphale rarely posted or used the resources, it would get Bishop Gabriel off his back. Maybe he’d even get treated with a little more respect if he entered into the 21<sup>st</sup> century. Crowley was already looking forward to the possibilities.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Not long after Aziraphale sent his email off to Crowley, he received a phone call from his least favorite person. As much as he loved spending time with Crowley over the weekend, he was feeling resentful that manning a booth all weekend took him away from his flock.</p><p>“Good afternoon, Bishop Gabriel. It is nice to hear from you.”</p><p>“Afternoon, Aziraphale. Figured you’d be available. I know it’s your Sabbath but it’s not like you really have anything to do with your life. I bet you’re sitting all alone at home with a book and plates of food everywhere. Do you even leave your apartment?” Gabriel said in his usual patronizing tone.</p><p>Aziraphale took a deep breath. “You are quite right about the book. But all of my plates are washed and placed in the drying rack.”</p><p>“Probably overflowing. So tell me about the festival! Did you win us more souls?”</p><p>“Quite a few visitors stopped by. I had some delightful conversations with some teenagers and young adults. All of the buttons I brought with me were taken as well,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>Gabriel made a pleased noise. “Keep your numbers, Aziraphale, and let me know if any of them come to worship. Let’s hope by the end of this year you’ll have ten or more new congregants. Do you have any other outreach ready to go, or do I need to set things up again? You must do more evangelizing, Aziraphale. Don’t think this one time is enough.”</p><p>“Yes, I actually have exciting news, Bishop Gabriel! As I was talking with a friend—”</p><p>“You have a friend? When did this happen?” Gabriel asked.</p><p>“I have several good friends, Bishop Gabriel. Anyway, he was telling me about a social media application that he uses. I have decided to receive some assistance and create a MyBook page for our church and a website. So many young people use the internet to find things these days, I believe it will help put Tadfield Beloved Disciples on the map!” Aziraphale responded enthusiastically. He didn’t know if Crowley would help him, but even if not he’d find a way.</p><p>“Not a bad idea, Aziraphale. I’m surprised you were capable of coming up with something this clever by yourself!” Gabriel voiced his approval. In his typical, condescending way, of course.</p><p>“Thank you, Bishop Gabriel. We also have our annual Halloween Trunk or Treat coming up in the church parking lot. I’m looking forward to seeing all the children’s costumes this year. I cannot keep up with all the characters these days, but they are wonderful all the same,” Aziraphale added.</p><p>Gabriel tsked. “Now, now, Aziraphale. What have I told you about Halloween?”</p><p>“That it goes against our faith as Christians. However, this is a long-held tradition at the church, and you know that such rituals in family sized churches are not to be altered or changed in significant ways. Also, Bishop Gabriel, this is a positive way that we interact with our community.”</p><p>“Maybe someday you’ll be able to teach them the error of their ways, but I’m not optimistic. You haven’t surprised me much, but maybe you’ll pull through someday. Wear your collar and preach the good word when people get that ‘gross matter’ they call candy from you. And don’t eat it all before the children arrive. Enjoy the rest of your Sabbath,” Gabriel said and hung up.</p><p>Aziraphale sighed. Bishop Gabriel knew how to suck the fun out of everything. He strongly disagreed with the bishop’s opinion on Halloween, but he would never admit it out loud. Halloween was actually one of Aziraphale’s favorite holidays. It gave him an excuse to dress up in a cute costume, pass out candy to kids of all ages, and make people smile. He fed off the whimsy and happiness, and it always filled his heart to the brim.</p><p>Today, Aziraphale was not going to let Gabriel get the best of him. He was going to enjoy his Sabbath…And obsessively check his email to see if Crowley responded. It took a few hours, but he was over the moon when Crowley replied.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hey Angel,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Looks like my trolling is doing you some good. Glad you asked about it. ‘Course I’d be happy to help you. We can make a night of it. How about Friday when I get out of work I slither on over to your place? I can pick up dinner. I’ll get anything you’d like. You provide the drinks. Sound good?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-C</em>
</p><p>
  <em>P.S-I have two gifts for you. I’ll bring ‘em with me on Friday. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>P.S.S- Yes, I did groan. Am I that predictable?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Aziraphale most definitely did <em>not </em>squeal with happiness. Crowley wanted to come over. His humble apartment wasn’t much, but it was comfortable. He’d made it a home, and it would be nice to entertain someone who wouldn’t judge him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Crowley,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Friday evening sounds lovely. I have a few red wines to choose from—not as fancy as what we had yesterday—yet they are still scrummy. I haven’t had Asian cuisine in quite some time. Song’s Café has the most delightful dumplings. If you would like to pick up an assortment, that would be heavenly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your Friend,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale</em>
</p><p>
  <em>P.S-You may a little predictable, good fellow. But it is endearing.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale greeted Crowley at the door. He was feeling a little nervous about having Crowley in his home. With the exception of Bishop Gabriel and repair-folks, no one had ever been in his apartment. Aziraphale tried to look a little nicer for Crowley as well. Usually he’d stay in his fluffy robe unless he left the house on his days off. But for company, he wanted to look put together. He wore a cream-colored argyle sweater, brown slacks, and brown house shoes. Comfortable, but presentable. The only downside was having to wear his binder.  </p><p>As usual, Crowley was a knockout. Aziraphale noticed that he’d been dressing more feminine each time they were together. He wondered if it was on purpose or just a coincidence. Crowley was in a tight, wine colored dress, matching pumps, and a black leather jacket. His hair was up in a bun, and he was wearing dark lipstick.</p><p>“Come on up, good fellow. Wine is poured and the table is set,” Aziraphale led Crowley up narrow stairs to his apartment. He bit his lip in anticipation of Crowley’s reaction.</p><p>“Nice place, Aziraphale. It smells like a library with all your books. S’not a bad thing though. I like it. Suits you. I’d say it’s cozy,” Crowley said as he took in Aziraphale’s apartment. He wasn’t remotely surprised by all the bookshelves and books stacked throughout the small space. It wasn’t much to look at, but Crowley could feel the care and love Aziraphale had for his apartment. He wished his own cottage felt this warm and inviting.</p><p>“I know it isn’t much. I cannot afford anything grand on my salary. But it is lovely, and I adore the fact that I live right above a bookshop. Anathema Device, the owner, is such a brilliant and bold woman. Which reminds me, I must make a note to drop by and schedule a time to have dinner with her and her partner soon. Please feel free to put our dinner on the counter and get things ready. I need to write myself an email so I do not forget to speak with her,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>Crowley did as Aziraphale asked, and then walked over to his friend’s side. Aziraphale was patiently waiting for his email to load.</p><p>“What in the Someone is that thing, Aziraphale?” Crowley lightly smacked the monitor.</p><p>Aziraphale gasped. “Crowley, hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s rude to both damage someone’s property and lean over their shoulder and read their email?”</p><p>“C’mon, I didn’t hit it hard enough to do anything! Also, can’t read your email when it won’t load. How old’s this thing?”</p><p>“I actually cannot recall. I got it refurbished about ten years ago, I believe. It is older than that, I’m sure. Can’t afford anything newer, I’m afraid. I do not wish to go into credit card debt,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>Crowley gently patted Aziraphale’s shoulder and went over to grab something out of his backpack. He put the items behind his back to hide them.</p><p>“Hold out your hands and close your eyes, angel. Got a surprise for you. Think you’re gonna love it.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled, swiveled his chair to face Crowley, and did as he was asked. Crowley placed the large and small item on his hands. “Open your eyes.”</p><p>He couldn’t believe what he saw. A cell phone and a laptop. He’d never owned a laptop before, and the phone was far more advanced than the one he currently had. Why would Crowley spend so much money on him?</p><p>“Oh, Crowley, I cannot accept such expensive gifts. You have already done so much for me, I can’t possibly take more fr—”</p><p>Crowley put his finger to Aziraphale’s lips. “Shh, before you protest let me explain. Didn’t buy them. Well I did buy them, but they’re two years old. Usually upgrade every year or two. I kept them in case I’d ever need them or met someone who was in need. Wiped them both clean and they are ready to go. Cell phone’s yours too. Put you on my plan. Not much more a month. Seriously, barely even noticeable difference in my monthly bill. Unlimited data, unlimited texting, unlimited calling. Got it all. Both of these’ll help you in your ministry. Plus,” Crowley grinned, “You can text me whenever you’d like. Don’t have to boot up your old desktop to shoot me an email.”</p><p>Aziraphale was nearly in tears. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something like this for him. There were no words that could express his gratitude for Crowley’s generous gifts. Aziraphale thanked God for putting a friend into his life. It had been so, so long since he’d experienced kindness that wasn’t related to ministry. He’d almost forgotten how lovely it was.</p><p>“A-are you sure, Crowley? I can at least write you checks each month for my portion of the phone bill. Or can I do something else to make it up to you? I don’t want to take advantage of you or your generosity, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly.</p><p>Crowley wagged his finger in Aziraphale’s face. “Nuh uh. Don’t want anything. I had the phone and laptop, and I wasn’t using them. Phone bill is peanuts to me. This’ll make life easier for you, and it’ll make it easier and faster for you to talk to me. Win-win for both of us. Put those down on the coffee table and I’ll show you how to use ‘em after we eat. Probably won’t get to building you a website tonight, but MyBook and newsletter stuff’s easy.”</p><p>“We may not even get past MyBook, Crowley. I most appreciate your faith in me,” Aziraphale said with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley didn’t think that helping someone learn how to use social media could be so precious. Aziraphale put on little reading glasses and got out a pad of paper and a pen. He took detailed notes of each thing Crowley did and what he said. Aziraphale would try each thing after Crowley did it, but he wanted notes just in case he forget any steps. Crowley imagined that Aziraphale must’ve been the star pupil of every school he attended.</p><p>“There we go. Got the church’s picture as the profile, your office hours are up, address and phone number are there… Got your open and affirming information in the description so queer people will know you actually give a shit about them. Now you need to post something. What’re you thinking, angel?”</p><p>Aziraphale stared at the page for a while. “Do you think it would be vain of me to post a picture of myself and talk a little bit about the church? A pleasant greeting from Pastor Fell, perhaps?”</p><p>Crowley grinned. “Got a better idea, angel. Let’s put up a video of you greeting people. You look nice. Sit up straight and I’ll shoot.”</p><p>“Crowley, are you sure? I-I don’t really know what to say, and are you sure this is alright?” Aziraphale looked down at his clothing.</p><p>“Yes, you look handsome. C’mon, you’re Daddy Aziraphale! You’re a PILF.”</p><p>Aziraphale knit his eyebrows in confusion. “A ‘pilf’? What in the heavens is that?”</p><p>“Pastor I’d Like to Fuck!”</p><p>Aziraphale blushed. “Crowley! Good Lord!”</p><p>Crowley laughed, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but join him.</p><p>After they settled down, Aziraphale smoothed out his sweater and sat primly on the couch. There was a lovely, warm smile on his face, and he looked at ease. He pretended that he was simply giving another sermon.</p><p>“Ready, angel? On the count of three,” Crowley held up his fingers and signaled for Aziraphale to begin.</p><p>Aziraphale gave his brightest smile and began. “Hello, dear ones. I am Pastor Fell, the minister of Tadfield Beloved Disciples Church. We are a small congregation filled with loving, compassionate people. Our church is open and affirming, which means we accept and embrace all members of the LGBTQ+ community. If you are looking for a place of worship where you will grow in your love for all God’s people and strengthen your faith in Christ, then we are the place for you. Our services are at 10 a.m. every Sunday morning. We hope to see you. May you feel God’s love today and every day.” Aziraphale smiled and waved, signaling for Crowley to stop recording.</p><p>“How was that, Crowley? Do you think it is acceptable?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“Perfect, angel. Let’s upload it and we’ll pin it to the top of the page. That way when people visit your page it’ll be the first thing they see.”</p><p>Aziraphale clapped in excitement. “Oh, how lovely! I think I have an idea for what else I will post on our MyBook page.”</p><p>“What’re you thinking? Dank memes? Lemme look at my phone, I think I’ve got some good, deep-fried church memes saved on my phone. Use ‘em on the fundies a lot.”</p><p>“A meme? I don’t know what that is. But let me finish my thought before you educate me. I think I will post a few devotionals a week and my sermons. That way anyone who stumbles across our page will have some encouragement. I find that it helps if people can read a pastor’s sermons. It gives a sense of what the congregation is like and if our theology is aligned with a potential visitor’s.”</p><p>Crowley smiled. “Think that sounds like a good idea, angel. Now look at this,” Crowley leaned over and showed Aziraphale a comic on his phone. “This is a meme. They’re usually just pictures with something funny written on them. Stupid shit usually, but ‘s good for a cheap laugh.”</p><p>Aziraphale giggled. “Now I must admit, that is a good ‘church meme’ Crowley. A clever use of Martin Luther indeed!”</p><p>Crowley spent a few more hours with Aziraphale. He helped him develop a nicer format for his newsletter, showed him a few nice features on the laptop, and downloaded some simple apps onto Aziraphale’s new phone.</p><p>“Here y’go, Aziraphale. Now you can check your email and MyBook on your phone. But the best part of this? You can text me!”</p><p>Aziraphale beamed. “This will be so much nicer than email! As much as I have enjoyed our email correspondence, I am looking forward to being able to respond to you faster.”</p><p>“Me too, angel. Getting close to midnight, s’pose I should get going. I’ll see you ‘round the coffee shop.” Crowley patted Aziraphale on the shoulder and slowly stood up.</p><p>“I’ll see you out.”</p><p>Aziraphale followed Crowley down the stairs. Crowley opened the door and stepped out, and Aziraphale joined him. He walked with Crowley to the Bentley so he could wave him off.</p><p>“G’night, Aziraphale. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Crowley said.</p><p>“Goodnight, good fellow… Oh, and Crowley?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Will you text me when you get home? I want to make sure you make it home safe and sound. Given your driving, I need some reassurance,” Aziraphale blushed and wrung his hands. The darkness concealed his blush, thank heavens.</p><p>“Ngk. Ah, ‘course I will,” Crowley choked out. He waved goodbye to Aziraphale and sped off into the night.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Twenty minutes later, Aziraphale received his first text from Crowley:</p><p>
  <em>Home in one piece. Almost hit a deer but it got out of the way in time. Lemme know how MyBook works out. Got any questions just ask. I got you. ‘Night. -C</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Aziraphale grinned from ear to ear.</p><p>
  <em>Goodnight, Crowley. Thank you for everything. I’m glad you’re safe. May you have sweet dreams. -Aziraphale </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The translation I used for Job 42:1-6 is the NRSV (New Revised Standard Version)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friday evenings and Sunday afternoons became what Crowley deemed “their days.” It was when Crowley and Aziraphale made time for each other. Throughout the week, they would text back and forth, and they’d come up with plans. Often they’d go out for lunch or dinner, go for a nice walk, check out the happenings around town. And each time, they’d end up back at Aziraphale’s apartment, drinking alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages, and talking about anything and everything.</p><p>Crowley loved Aziraphale’s apartment. He loved its warmth, the clutter, the scent of old books that hit him the moment he walked in. But what he loved most was the old loveseat. It gave Crowley an excuse to sit closer to Aziraphale, an opportunity to breathe in his scent. Aziraphale always smelled heavenly; warm, inviting, soothing like a field of lavender. Crowley loved that Aziraphale didn’t go for more traditional “masculine” scents. The floral notes fit Aziraphale’s loving, tender, soft spirit. It made Crowley feel safe for the first time in many years. From time to time he’d fantasize about leaning his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, filling his lungs with the scent of the angel. Intertwining their fingers and staring deep into each other’s eyes in a moment of silence. Leaning in, cupping Aziraphale’s round, chubby cheek in his slender, bony palm… But he refrained. Crowley wanted to enjoy their friendship and wait to see if things progressed on their own.</p><p>Aziraphale always felt butterflies when Crowley came over. He loved having Crowley in his home. It was the first time in many years that Aziraphale invited someone into his life as more than an acquaintance or dining companion. Aziraphale had forgotten how wonderful it was to have a friend to share time with. No expectations other than conversation and good quality time. Though, he did have to admit to himself, he was deeply attracted to Crowley. Occasionally Aziraphale would fantasize about patting his lap, encouraging Crowley to rest his head on it while they sat on the couch. He’d gently run his fingers through Crowley’s hair, press a tender kiss to his temple. But it was far more than about his looks; Aziraphale found Crowley to be brilliant, clever, and funny. His brutal honesty about religion and faith also appealed to him. It was both a challenge and a blessing, as far as Aziraphale was concerned. Crowley was the best conversation partner he’d had had since… <em>Him.</em></p><p>They found themselves enjoying another quiet Sunday evening together. A perfect beginning to Aziraphale’s week and a perfect ending to Crowley’s weekend. They were putting the finishing touches on the Beloved Disciples’ website. Aziraphale was amazed at how easy it was for Crowley to set it up. And he was surprised at how quickly he was able to learn form Crowley. They made a good team.</p><p>“Looks like even dinosaurs can make a website. Right, angel?” Crowley teased.</p><p>“It appears so. As long as we have the right handler,” Aziraphale winked.</p><p>“Lucky for you I know what I’m doing. All my experience with Bessie prepared me for teaching you. If she could learn to not bite my hand off, then you could learn how to make a website.”</p><p>Aziraphale giggled. “I do hope to meet her, someday. I owe her my gratitude.”</p><p>“Yeah you do. Speaking of meeting her, I got a question for you, angel. How does your lot feel about Halloween?” Crowley asked.</p><p>“The Beloved Disciples have no teachings against Halloween. We see it as a wonderful holiday where people can dress up, have fun, and enjoy the whimsy of life. That is not true for Bishop Gabriel and Pastor Sandalphon—one of my colleagues—but they do not own the denomination,” Aziraphale answered and took a sip of hot cocoa.</p><p>“What about you? You with Gabriel on this one?”</p><p>Aziraphale looked appalled. “Oh, absolutely <em>not</em>, Crowley! Bishop Gabriel thinks that to celebrate this time of year is to go against Christ. I simply cannot accept that belief. Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, in fact. I put together an annual Trunk or Treat in the church parking lot each year. It is quite amazing how much candy we give out. And Crowley, all the costumes! Little infants all the way to older adults. How incredible it is to see people filled with so much joy! I admit that I do not always understand the getups, but they are lovely all the same. I’m not too fond of the ‘spooky’ ones, but that is probably not a surprise.”</p><p>Crowley shook his head. “No surprise at all. What’s this whole Trunk or Treat thing? Never heard of it before. And d’you get to dress up too or d’you wear all your pastor regalia?”</p><p>“Bishop Gabriel would love it if I wore my collar and garments. But no, I do not. This is meant solely for fun, and I do not wish to give the impression that we expect people to visit our church in exchange for candy. So, what happens is members of my congregation decorate their cars and fill their trunks with candy. Parishioners who volunteer stand by their vehicles to greet the trick or treaters and talk with them. They are given treats just as they would if they went up to a front door. A lot of families quite like this model, especially if they have younger children or those who are easily overwhelmed. We always run out. What’s miraculous is that we always have enough for the two hours that the event occurs. Perfect every single time,” Aziraphale beamed and his cheeks were flush with excitement.</p><p>Crowley smiled in return. “Sounds like fun, actually. But you didn’t answer my question. D’you wear a costume?”</p><p>“Yes I do! Crowley, if I could dress up more often and make people smile, I certainly would. Oh, I’m delighted with what I’m going to wear next Saturday. Would you like to see?” Aziraphale wiggled in his seat.</p><p>“Actually, Aziraphale, I’d rather wait ‘til Halloween. What time’s this shindig of yours? Thinking I’d like to come to your Trunk or Treat, have a little fun.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it would be delightful to see you! It will be from 5-7 next Saturday. Feel free to drop by whenever you wish, I will be there the entire time.”</p><p>“Will you be free afterwards, angel?”</p><p>“Crowley, I will be as free as a bird once our Halloween event concludes. Next Sunday is our Waiting Worship, so I am not expected to preach,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “Two questions. First one is what in the bloody hell is ‘Waiting Worship’? Second, my workplace is having a Halloween party and it’s mandatory that I go. Really don’t want to go by myself. Want you to come with me. Having you there will make it bearable, maybe fun even. Interested?”</p><p>“Y-you want me to accompany you to your office party? That sounds lovely! Is there a chance that I could meet your dear Bessie?”</p><p>Crowley flashed a big grin. “‘Course. I’ll even let you feed her.” He paused for a moment. “Now back to my first question, angel.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, yes, thank you for reminding me. I got a little carried away with our Halloween plans. So, Waiting Worship is an important part of the Beloved Disciples tradition. This type of worship occurs the first Sunday of every month in all of our churches. We sit for a full hour in silence together. In this time of silence, we wait for the Holy Spirit to speak to us. Sometimes She calls us to speak the message aloud to the congregation. This is called ‘vocal ministry.’ Other times, we may receive a message from Her that we are meant to keep to ourselves. I affectionately refer to this as ‘bread for home.’ Often, I do not hear anything.”</p><p>“How can you possibly know that God wants you to share something? How d’you even know if it’s God who is speaking in the first place? Doesn’t make an ounce of sense, angel,” Crowley scoffed.</p><p>“It takes a long time to learn how to discern such things, Crowley. Even now, I still get it wrong. I think that I am being led by the Holy Spirit to share something, and it is the wrong thing to say. How I have learned to trust that She wants me to speak is based on my body. I feel this heavy, anxious, pressure building up inside of me. I shake a little… Well, I must admit, I shake a lot sometimes. If these intense feelings do not come, then I say nothing at all,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>“So unless God makes you feel like absolute shite you don’t say anything? Sounds abusive.”</p><p>Aziraphale sighed. “It is actually a pleasant feeling, in a way. God is coursing through me in such moments. I do not feel abused. I feel loved and surrounded.”</p><p>Crowley shrugged and took another drink of cocoa. “Eh, whatever floats your spiritual boat.”</p><p>An hour later, Crowley took his leave.</p><p>“Saturday. Your church. Good with me coming ‘round at 6:30?” Crowley asked.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically. “Yes indeed! And the Tadfield Botanical Gardens afterwards?”</p><p>“You got it. Still on for the movies on Friday evening? They’re playing the original Frankenstein. ‘S old and it’s not that scary. Can you handle that?”</p><p>“Oh, I actually quite like the original. I look forward to Friday and our time together on Saturday. Take care, my dear. Drive safe and do be sure to text me when you make it home to your cottage.”</p><p>Crowley smiled and nodded. When he got into his Bentley, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “My dear?! Oh angel, you’ll be the death of me,” Crowley sighed. He never thought a pet name could impact him so deeply. He hoped he’d hear it again soon.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale looked at himself in the mirror. He was so excited about his Halloween costume he giggled with joy. He always chose cute costumes; non-threatening, endearing, and they were always sure to bring a smile to someone’s face. There wasn’t much better than being the one to brighten another’s day, as far as Aziraphale was concerned.</p><p>This year, going as a bumblebee seemed like the perfect idea. He had on a yellow hat with a black brim and black antennas. The costume was black and yellow striped, the sleeves were black, and the large wings were black as well. He wore black leggings and black flats. To complete the look, he put a trans flag pin on his costume. His stocky, heavy body was made for this costume. Aziraphale felt adorable. He felt good about his appearance, comfortable with his build. He hoped Crowley would give him a stamp of approval.</p><p>There were more families at the church’s Trunk or Treat than ever before. Aziraphale had a feeling the MyBook announcement had helped spread the word. Their page was getting a steady stream of likes over the weeks, and people loved Aziraphale’s welcoming video. There were a few trolls mocking his weight—he had to delete those—but other than that, the responses were overwhelmingly positive. Even congregants told him how happy they were with Aziraphale’s new outreach efforts. It felt wonderful to see good fruits come from Crowley’s help and generosity.</p><p>“Uh, hi, are you Pastor Fell?”</p><p>Aziraphale had just finished placing a generous handful of chocolate bars in a child’s plastic cauldron when he heard a soft voice. He turned around and saw a short person in a black robe with a plague doctor mask on.</p><p>“Why yes, I am indeed Pastor Fell. What a wonderful plague doctor you make! I’ve seen quite a few of such costumes in my life, and yours is one of the best,” he said with a warm, tender smile.</p><p>“Thanks. Do you have a second to talk?” the person took the mask off and looked into Aziraphale’s eyes. They couldn’t be more than 14 years old. Their eyes were puffy and red from crying.</p><p>Aziraphale’s heart sunk at the sight. The child didn’t even need to say anything; he knew they were queer and something had happened. “Of course, let’s take a seat on the curb over there. That will give us some privacy.” Aziraphale gently put his hand on the child’s shoulder and guided them to sit.</p><p>When they sat down, the child was quiet at first. Aziraphale didn’t push them to speak; he knew when the time was right conversation would begin.</p><p>“What are your pronouns, Pastor Fell?”</p><p>“I use he/him/his. How about you? And may I ask your name, dear one?” Aziraphale responded.</p><p>“Uh yeah. Just started using they/them pronouns. I’m trying out the name Beau to see if it works.”</p><p>“What a wonderful name, Beau. I know we’ve just met, but it suits you rather well.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Beau pointed to Aziraphale’s button. “Are you trans?”</p><p>Aziraphale looked down. He’d nearly forgotten he’d put it on. “You’re correct, Beau. I’m a transman. One of God’s most beloved gifts to me,” he answered warmly.</p><p>Beau gave a weak smile. “Cool to know a minister in town is out… So I saw your video. The one on MyBook. Where you said that your church accepts us. Is it really okay to be trans and Christian, Pastor Fell? Because…” they swallowed hard and wiped a tear from their eye before they continued. “Because my parents said that it’s not. We… Well they because I stopped going—go to the Grapevine Church. I came out as nonbinary to my mom and dad and they got upset.”</p><p>Aziraphale frowned. “Beau, what happened?”</p><p>“They made me go talk to Reverend Augustine… He repeated the church’s belief about trans people. They think that there are only two genders and that they are the images of God. Trans people and nonbinary people aren’t real. If we try then we’re saying no to God’s plan for us. So he said if I keep living into this delusion that God is going to turn His back on me. But if I keep praying that God will take these sinful ideas away and I’ll be the girl that God made me to be…Am I really going against God by being me?” Beau wiped away some more tears.</p><p>Inside, Aziraphale was angry. He wanted to walk up to that minister and give him a stern talking to... Maybe even a slap in the face. But he controlled his anger in and spoke in his soft, tender voice.</p><p>“Beau, God made you nonbinary. We are all made in the image of God, and in Their world a binary does not exist. When I hear people say such hurtful and incorrect things, I always remind myself of a portion of Psalm 139:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>For you created my inmost being;</em>
  <em><br/>
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.<br/>
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;<br/>
    your works are wonderful,<br/>
    I know that full well.<br/>
My frame was not hidden from you<br/>
    when I was made in the secret place,<br/>
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.<br/>
Your eyes saw my unformed body;<br/>
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book<br/>
    before one of them came to be.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Beau, if anyone knows you, it is God. They knew you long before your parents did. Long before the world decided to assign a gender to you. Beau, I know that you know who you are. Even if you change your pronouns down the road or find a name that better suits you, that is okay. God delights when we learn about ourselves. There is no one who can take away God’s love and care for you. God will never turn Their back on you.” Aziraphale placed his hand on Beau’s shoulder and gave them a look of certainty.</p><p>“Thanks, Pastor Fell. You’re right. Reverend Augustine doesn’t own God. If God loves me like I’ve always been told, then me being nonbinary is okay. Could you write that psalm down for me?” Beau asked.</p><p>Aziraphale beamed in response. “Of course I can, dear Beau.” He reached into the pocket of his costume and pulled out his wallet and a small pen. Aziraphale pulled out his business card, wrote down Psalm 139:13-16 and his coffee shop hours on the back, and handed it to them.</p><p>“Should you wish to speak with me again, here is my business card. I have my phone number and email there, and I hold my care hours at ‘Thanks a Latte.’ You are free to come by whenever I’m there. And you are always welcome in our church. Worship begins at 10 a.m.”</p><p>They put the card in their candy bag. “I walk past there on my way home from school. Glad to know when you’re there… Before I go, would you pray for me, Pastor Fell?”</p><p>“It would be my privilege, Beau. Let us pray.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley stepped out of the Bentley a few minutes before 7. He meant to get there earlier, but his nap went on longer than he’d anticipated. Luckily, Crowley still had given himself plenty of time to get dressed.</p><p>He turned heads in the parking lot when he arrived. Ginger mop-top wig, round sunglasses with silver frames, black turtleneck, black blazer, slim black pants, and black boots with a modest heel. He could tell that some of Aziraphale’s older congregants had a soft spot for 60s fashion. Crowley shot his audience a devilish smirk and sauntered with his usual confidence. As he walked, people continued to stare at him.</p><p>He saw Aziraphale sitting on the curb with a young person. They were facing away from Crowley, so they didn’t see him approaching. Crowley held back from greeting them when he heard Aziraphale begin to pray. He carefully stepped closer to he could hear it.</p><p>“Our beloved God, who we live to serve and praise, I pray for your dear child Beau. I pray that you will be with them throughout their coming out journey. God, we know that it is a challenging road, filled with misunderstandings, fear, and hurt. And yet, with Your help the road is also paved with beauty, wonder, and joy. Remind Beau that they are fearfully and wonderfully made, that You knew them long before anyone else ever did. In your holy name I pray, Amen,” Aziraphale finished.</p><p>Crowley watched as Beau gave Aziraphale a big hug. Aziraphale hugged back, told them that he was available any time they needed support, and gave them an extra-large candy bar. Beau took it without hesitation, put their mask back on, and took off. Once Beau was off in the distance, Crowley sat next to Aziraphale.</p><p>“Hey, angel.”</p><p>Aziraphale turned and took Crowley’s appearance in. He was clearly as affected as much as his congregants were. “Y-you… Crowley, your costume is exquisite! It looks as though you’ve just walked out of the year 1967! Is this all vintage?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but touch Crowley’s blazer.</p><p>Crowley grinned. “You bet, angel. Spare no expense if you’re gonna do it right. This wig’s even made from real hair. None of that synthetic mess. Y’like it?”</p><p>“Oh, I love it! Here I was, thinking you would show up in a little devil costume. My dear, you are certainly not as predictable as I thought you were,” he winked.</p><p>“Gotta keep you on your toes, Aziraphale. Can’t let you get the upper hand. Now as wonderful as my costume is, just look at you. Never thought bumblebees could be cute, but I was wrong. You make this?” Crowley reached out and petted one of the wings.</p><p>Aziraphale blushed an unnatural shade of red. “No, I’m afraid you don’t want me anywhere near a sewing machine. I purchased it at an after-Halloween sale last year. I’ve been quite looking forward to wearing it, and I’m glad that you approve!”</p><p>“I more than approve, angel. You’ll be the star of the show at the party tonight. Speaking of which, you ready to go?”</p><p>“Let me say my goodbye to all of my volunteers, and then we can get a wiggle on!”</p><p>Crowley followed Aziraphale around as he thanked everyone for all of their hard work. He expected to just be in Aziraphale’s shadow, waiting for him to finish up. Instead, Aziraphale made Crowley the centerpiece. He introduced Crowley to everyone, talking him up to everyone they crossed paths with. It was a little uncomfortable. No one had ever made such a fuss over Crowley before. Unless, of course, it was about his physical appearance. This wasn’t Aziraphale’s motivation. It was pure, goodhearted, welcoming. As close to real Christianity as Crowley could imagine.</p><p>It was another half hour before they left the church. Crowley wasn’t surprised that it took so long with how much congregants seemed to love Aziraphale. It was sweet to witness the loving relationship between shepherd and sheep. Crowley would never admit it to Aziraphale, but he felt a brief pang of envy for the connection he had with all of those people.</p><p>They arrived at the Gardens a half hour after the party began. It was held in a large banquet room often reserved for weddings and anniversary parties. Aziraphale had been there many times before; one of the benefits of being a pastor was celebrating with couples after officiating their weddings. It was by far the most beautiful venue in town. On the rare occasions that Aziraphale fantasized about his own wedding—though he had come to accept that it probably just wasn’t in the cards for him—he imagined the reception being held there. Sometimes Aziraphale would imagine himself dancing with <em>him </em>in this beautiful place. But <em>he</em> was long, long gone, and those fantasies only made his heart ache.</p><p>Crowley led Aziraphale over to the hor d'oeuvres and got them each a glass of red wine.</p><p>“Get as much as you’d like, angel. From what I’ve heard this place knows how to feed people.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded as he put a few finger foods on his plate. “Yes, the caterers are delightful here. I’ve been here quite a few times, my dear. Pastor Fell <em>always</em> gets invited to the wedding reception.”</p><p>Crowley smirked. “You that big of a party animal? Get out there and do the Cha Cha Slide, show ‘em how it’s done? Or are you a Macarena man?”</p><p>“I am quite fond of the YMCA, I must say. I have gained quite a reputation amidst my congregants. Every wedding I officiate now, it is a rule that someone must request The Village People. I’ll never live it down, and yet I would not have it any other way,” Aziraphale answered with a fond smile.</p><p>Crowley raised an eyebrow. “When did The Village People add a pastor to their group?”</p><p>“Good fellow, the answer to your question is 2010. That’s when Pastor Fell came to town. You know, I-” Aziraphale’s jaw dropped and he nearly dropped his plate. Crowley followed the angel’s gaze to the other side of the room. He saw Beez and the stuffy man that visited them at the office once a week. The man had his arm wrapped around Beez and was kissing their temple. Beez didn’t look amused but allowed the touch.</p><p>“Never seen a Devilist before or somethin’, angel? That’s my boss, Beelzebub. Call them Beez. Thought you were more accepting than those other Christians,” Crowley teased.</p><p>Aziraphale glared at Crowley. “I’m not staring in judgment. The man next to your boss is… Is <em>my </em>boss!”</p><p>“No fucking way. That’s that bastard Gabriel?! He’s here at the Gardens at least once a week to spend time with Beez!” Crowley exclaimed.</p><p>“Let’s sit down, Crowley. I need a moment.”</p><p>“Of course, Aziraphale. A great day is getting even better,” Crowley said as he carefully guided Aziraphale to an empty table nearby.</p><p>Crowley sipped his wine as Aziraphale composed himself. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Gabriel and Beelzebub. Gabriel was dressed in a gray tailored suit with a violet tie, which matched his eyes perfectly. He was wearing beautiful white wings and had a halo on his head. So much for his stance on Halloween…</p><p>“Oi angel!” Crowley snapped his fingers to bring Aziraphale back into the present moment. “Tell me what about this has you all shaken up.”</p><p>“As you know, Gabriel has made it quite clear to me that Halloween is something that should be opposed. The fact that he is here, at a Halloween party, wearing a costume… But that is not the worst of it, Crowley!”</p><p>“Go on. What’s the worst of it?”</p><p>Aziraphale turned to look back at their respective bosses. Gabriel gave Beez a tender kiss on their lips. “Crowley, I want you to first understand that I am not judging your boss. I have actually had a few interactions with Devilists in this town in the past. They have…Rarely gone well. I do not agree with their religious beliefs. To worship the Devil is playing with Hellfire, and I cannot condone it. However, I would never wish ill will on them. I merely pray that they will come to God or, at the very least, become agnostic. Even losing faith in something entirely would be a better fate than following the Devil…But I realize that I am rambling on. If my beliefs seem judgmental to you, Crowley, I want you to imagine what Bishop Gabriel has said.”</p><p>Crowley leaned back in his chair and downed his wine. “Well you’re saying that Devilists need to get right with God or face eternal suffering. Which, to me, seems like that’s what they’re actively hoping for so I’m not quite sure why you pray they’ll come to your way of seeing things. Glad to know you don’t put agnostics and atheists in the same box, I ‘spose. But Gabriel probably goes way farther’n you do. Lemme guess, he says shit like ‘if you fuck one of them your soul gets sucked into the black hole of their heart.’ Or is it more like ‘if you aren’t actively trying to convert them than you’re no better than the Devil himself?’”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “Your comment about converting them is most accurate. But he has also warned those of us under him that if we are ever caught fraternizing with a Devilist that he is well within his right to strip us of our ordination! Bishop Gabriel almost tried to take mine away when I bought a meal for one and helped him get a job here at the Gardens! And yet he is here, wearing a Halloween costume and engaging in public displays of affection with someone he has called a spiritual enemy?”</p><p>“I knew your boss was a real wanker, but I didn’t realize that I’ve been dealing with the same prick. Every time he comes to the Gardens to spend time with Beez, he’s always rude. Such a condescending ass. Worst part was I caught them snogging in their office two weeks ago. Gabriel was laid out on their desk like a map. Good thing they didn’t see me or I would’ve been given an unpleasant assignment,” Crowley scowled.</p><p>The two sat in silence for a moment as they watched Beez and Gabriel interact. Something clicked in Crowley’s head, and a devilish grin spread across his face. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of Gabriel and Beez in the middle of a kiss. “Gimme your phone too, angel. You may need this for blackmail someday.” Aziraphale did as he was asked. Once the picture was taken he gave his phone back.</p><p>“Have I told you that you are quite clever, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked before popping an olive in his mouth.</p><p>Crowley grabbed the other olive off of Aziraphale’s plate and ate it. “Say it as many times as you’d like, Aziraphale. Positive reinforcement for my mischief fills the bar faster, y’know.”</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley burst out laughing. The tension that Bishop Gabriel’s presence caused washed away as he talked with Crowley. It was an immense comfort that Crowley felt the same way about Gabriel even though their interactions had been few and far between. For someone else to see straight through Gabriel’s façade and see how much of a hypocrite he was put Aziraphale at ease. And now that he had evidence of Gabriel’s “fraternizing,” Aziraphale was confident that he could handle whatever conflicts awaited him.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Angel, let’s get out of here. Wanna show you something,” Crowley said after Aziraphale finished his last bite of devil’s food cake.</p><p>Crowley took Aziraphale by the hand and led him out of the banquet room. He led Aziraphale to the lab buildings and used his key card to let them in. Crowley flicked the lights on, and Aziraphale was shocked by what he saw. Gorgeous, vibrant plants were everywhere. The air was warm and humid. Being surrounded by plants in a warm room reminded Aziraphale of visiting the butterfly gardens with his grandmother when he was a small child. The floral notes in the air even smelled like her perfume. He smiled at the memory.</p><p>“Through these doors is what you’ve been dying to see, Aziraphale. You ready?” Crowley asked as he punched in a code.</p><p>“Ever since the first time I met you, Crowley. Please don’t keep me waiting!” Aziraphale wiggled and vibrated in anticipation.</p><p>The doors opened, and Aziraphale’s eyes widened in surprise. He knew that Bessie would be a large plant, but he didn’t realize just <em>how </em>large she was going to be. She was nearly the size of Audrey II at the end of the play. Such a big, gorgeous, dangerous plant.</p><p>“Hello, dear Bessie. You are even more beautiful than Crowley led me to believe. Are you a good girl?” Aziraphale purred from a safe distance.</p><p>Bessie perked up when she heard Aziraphale speak. She smiled as wide as she could, exposing all of her razor-sharp teeth. She bobbed her head up and down as if she was dancing to the sound of his voice. Her udder swayed from side to side. Crowley could tell she needed to be milked, but she was very particular on how and when it was to occur.</p><p>“Now Bessie, listen up!” She shot straight up when Crowley spoke. The smile did not leave her face, but she was at attention. “This is Aziraphale. He’s your new friend. I expect you to be nice to him when he feeds you. If you so much as lick his finger, you will be eating nothing but freezer mice for the next week. Do you understand me?!” Crowley snapped. Bessie shook her head up and down.</p><p>Aziraphale looked at Crowley in shock. “The poor dear… She looks like a soldier when you speak!”</p><p>Crowley made a finger gun gesture at Aziraphale. “That’s the Crowley Method, baby! S’why my plants are always the best. Proper discipline means perfection. If they can’t meet my standards, it’s lights out for ‘em.” He dragged one of his fingers across his neck.</p><p>Aziraphale saw Bessie gulp nervously. His method certainly was… Something.</p><p>“Now c’mere, Aziraphale. I’ll let you pick out what delicacy she gets to have for dinner tonight.” Crowley led Aziraphale over to a large fridge on the side of the room. He opened it, and Aziraphale was shocked to see so many different animal parts. He was expecting pieces of meat like he’d purchase at the grocery store. Nope! There were legs, arms, heads, and full carcasses of various animals.</p><p>“All of these animals died of natural causes, angel. No funny business, promise. She really likes these,” Crowley pointed to a deer leg.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you ran this poor thing over after one of your evenings at my home,” Aziraphale said as he carefully picked up the leg from the fridge.</p><p>Crowley cackled. “If I could miracle my Bentley fixed up that fast then I’d never bother to slow down at all. Now don’t keep her waiting!”</p><p>Aziraphale carefully walked over to Bessie. She was drooling in anticipation of her meal. Crowley showed Aziraphale exactly where to stand so that he would be able to get away if something went wrong. Aziraphale didn’t feel the least bit afraid of her, though.</p><p>“Here you are, sweet Bessie. Please help yourself,” Aziraphale extended the deer leg to her, and she gently took it from his hands.</p><p>As she chewed, Crowley guided Aziraphale’s hands up to her horns. Bessie made a noise of approval as Aziraphale petted her.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>When she was finished, Crowley glanced over at the clock. It was nearing 10:30, but he wasn’t ready for his time with Aziraphale to end.</p><p>“Up for a nightcap, angel?” Crowley asked as he led them out of the lab.</p><p>“It is awfully late, Crowley, and I have Waiting Worship in the morning.”</p><p>Crowley gave him a little pout. “You don’t have to lead anything though, angel. No sermon to re-read, no music to take care of… Just have to show up and be quiet for an hour.”</p><p>Aziraphale pondered that thought as they walked to the Bentley. “That is a good point, my dear. I only need to arrive to the church forty-five minutes before worship begins, and I am an early riser as it is…Now are you suggesting wine?”</p><p>“‘Course, Aziraphale. Any kind of alcohol. ‘S what a nightcap is, after all!” Crowley opened the passenger door and helped him in the car.</p><p>“Crowley, would you be comfortable coming over to my apartment for drinks? I would prefer it if you spent the night at my place if we drink more tonight. I could not bear it if something happened to you because I allowed you to drive under the influence,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>Crowley looked at Aziraphale and grinned. He wished he could kiss that precious chubby bumblebee right now. “I always keep an overnight bag in the backseat. Never know when your car could break down or your friend asks if you want to have a sleepover. I’ve got one condition though.”</p><p>“Yes, good fellow?”</p><p>“I don’t have to go to church with you.”</p><p>Aziraphale reached out his hand. Crowley took it and shook it. “You’ve got a deal, dear boy.”</p><p>Without having to be reminded, Aziraphale grabbed the handle as Crowley roared away from the Gardens.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translation used for Psalm 139 is the New International Version (NIV)</p><p>When Beau shares Reverend Augustine's perspective on transgender people, I used a part of Indiana Yearly Meeting's Faith and Practice book. This is a Quaker Yearly Meeting in the Pastoral Friends tradition. Here is the direct quote: “We believe that God wonderfully and immutably creates each person as male or female. These two distinct, complementary genders together reflect the image and nature of God. (Gen 1:26-27.) Rejection of one’s biological sex is a rejection of God’s design of the person He created them to be.” </p><p>I do not belong to that Yearly Meeting and I never have. However, this is a sentiment that is held for quite a few Quakers, unfortunately. But they're wrong ;) .</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is heavy. </p><p>CW: AIDS crisis, death, church abuse, drug references, sex work, some slurs</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thank you ever so much for letting me meet Bessie. She is an absolute delight! As much as I do not understand your style of plant care, it has clearly worked,” Aziraphale said as they entered his apartment.</p><p>Crowley’s face lit up at the compliment. “Ngk. She’s a beauty, all right. S’nice to meet someone who’s actually interested in her too.”</p><p>As they settled into Aziraphale’s home, Crowley could tell he was terribly uncomfortable. He was pulling at his costume and his breathing was a little off.</p><p>“You okay, angel? You don’t look s’good.”</p><p>Aziraphale stopped pulling at his clothes. “Before we enjoy a tolerable red, I need to change out of my costume and take my binder off. I’ve been in it far too long today and it’s beginning to hurt.”</p><p>“Good idea, angel. Can’t imagine how unpleasant they are. Never had tits myself—flat as a board, me.” Crowley patted his chest and Aziraphale giggled.</p><p>“How I wish God had given me the gift of a chest like yours, Crowley. Mine isn’t…Significant by any means, thank heavens. But I still have just enough to feel dysphoric if I’m not wearing one in public. It’s served its purpose for the day, and for that I am thankful.”</p><p>“Will you be comfortable with me being here. I mean, seeing you in whatever you wear to bed? Don’t want to make you feel more dysphoric if I can help it,” Crowley said.</p><p>Aziraphale was deeply touched by Crowley’s concern. He hadn’t even considered the implications of having him stay the night. That Crowley thought of it before he did warmed his heart. It was in that moment that Aziraphale knew that Crowley truly was a safe person. He could trust him with his gender identity, his sexuality, those parts of his life. It would be okay to let Crowley in.</p><p>“Thank you for your concern about my feelings. I’m completely comfortable with you seeing me in my nighttime getup. You being here is a delight, my dear. I know you see me as I am. I’ll be back in a skip and a jump. Feel free to get changed into your sleepwear in my bathroom.”</p><p>Crowley nodded and took his overnight bag with him. As he removed his wig and cap, Crowley focused on several items on the counter. Aziraphale had a syringe and two needles laid out next to a box of gloves, two alcohol wipes, cotton balls, a bandage, and a vial of testosterone. He didn’t know Aziraphale was on hormones. They’d never talked about it—Aziraphale was clearly a man and no one would question that. As much as Crowley hated the phrase, the angel “passed.” Crowley had seen all of it before and it didn’t shock him. But he was curious about two items that were next to them: a small boombox and a picture.</p><p>He knew he should leave it be, but he couldn’t help himself. Crowley picked up the picture frame to get a better look. It was an old photograph of a man and a young Aziraphale. At least he thought it was. If it was Aziraphale, it was before he’d transitioned. He was wearing a flowing white robe adorned with gold crosses. His hair was covered by a gold bonnet. Aziraphale was smiling and had his arm around the man. The man was wearing a white robe. He looked wet, so Crowley assumed he’d just been baptized. He was a chubby man with dark hair, nearly black eyes, and curly hair. On the bottom of the photograph was written “Saint Christopher- 1982.”</p><p>Crowley carefully put the frame back where he’d found it. It left his head spinning with questions. What denomination was Aziraphale a part of back then? Who was this Saint Christopher bloke? Why would he have an old picture with his hormone therapy supplies? What about the boombox? Did Aziraphale make his shots into some strange spiritual practice? He told himself to ask Aziraphale when he sensed the time was right.</p><p>When Crowley stepped out of the bathroom, Aziraphale was pouring them each a glass of wine. He couldn’t help but stare at his friend. Aziraphale was wearing a white shirt that hugged his fat rolls perfectly and tartan pajama bottoms. Crowley loved getting a closer look at Aziraphale’s body. The thought of hugging him from behind and squeezing the soft rolls of Aziraphale’s tummy rose in his mind, but he quickly pushed them away. Now was not the time. It might never be the time. That was fine; Aziraphale’s friendship was enough.</p><p>“Ready to party, angel?”</p><p>Aziraphale turned around and smiled at Crowley. “The night is still young, dear boy. Here’s your wine.”</p><p>Crowley carefully took the glass from Aziraphale’s hands and sat on the couch. He curled his long legs underneath him so his friend could join him. As Crowley took a drink, Aziraphale took the opportunity to look at him. Crowley’s hair was in a loose braid just like their first lunch “date.” He was wearing a black band tee and loose shorts that ended midway down his thigh. Aziraphale’s gaze traveled to Crowley’s serpent tattoo.</p><p>“You look like you’ve never seen a tattoo before. Your religion tell you I’ve sullied my holy temple?” Crowley teased.</p><p>Aziraphale blushed. “I-I’m sorry I stared, that was rather inappropriate of me.”</p><p>“Tattoos are meant to be stared at, angel. Why else would I have a piece this big? Want to see the whole thing?”</p><p>“Well I am rather curious where it ends, I must admit,” Aziraphale responded quietly.</p><p>“Hold this.” Crowley handed Aziraphale his wine glass and got up from the couch. He hiked up his shorts until Aziraphale could see his butt cheek.</p><p>Aziraphale covered his eyes. “Good Lord, Crowley!”</p><p>Crowley turned his head and looked at him. “C’mon, ‘s just skin, Aziraphale. Take your hands off your eyes and look. Isn’t gonna sully your virtue if that’s something you’re concerned about.”</p><p>Aziraphale mumbled something under his breath—Crowley thought he heard him say “foul fiend”—and took his hands from his face. His eyes widened at he took in the details of Crowley’s ink. The serpent’s head was on his right cheek. In its mouth was a red apple, the only splash of color. It had faded over time, but it was still incredible. Whoever had done the work clearly was a gifted artist.</p><p>“What a lovely piece of art, Crowley. Is there a story behind it? I know that not every tattoo necessarily has a meaning. But I recall on our first walk you saying your nickname was ‘Serpent’ back in the 80s.”</p><p>Crowley pulled his shorts back down and plopped down on the couch. Aziraphale handed him his wine glass. He took a deep drink.</p><p>“Need to ask you a question first, angel.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“How d’you feel about nightclubs? Strippers? Stuff ‘n people like that?” Crowley asked.</p><p>Aziraphale paused for a moment. He knew he was on delicate ground and needed to make sure he didn’t say anything wrong. Aziraphale was well aware of Crowley’s mistrust of Christians. He didn’t know the whole story, but Aziraphale knew his feelings were justified. Every queer person’s pain and hesitance to open up to clergy was warranted. He hated to admit it, but it was the cold hard truth. Aziraphale would never deny it.</p><p>“I’ve never been one to partake in such things. I’ve been clergy for most of my life, so I’ve avoided it. However, I occasionally go to drag shows to support our community and ‘let my hair down’ so to speak. I do not think that people who dance or work at such places deserve contempt or judgment. So many of us have only been able to find others like us at clubs, after all… Regarding, ah, exotic dancers, I do not think they are sinning either. They do not deserve judgment, only love and care. I cannot and do not know what a dancer is going through. Some enjoy it, I know. Others do it because they are providing for themselves and loved ones. We must do what we must do to survive. I have never walked in their ‘heels’ and it is not my place to dictate how they live. My greatest concern is the safety of the workers. I pray for them often.”</p><p>Crowley visibly relaxed. Aziraphale smiled at him.</p><p>“Needed to check. Can’t help it. Me and clergy have been on the outs for a good long time, Aziraphale. Can’t be giving my story to someone who’s just gonna look down on me, y’know.”</p><p>“I understand all too well, Crowley. I assure you I have heard many things in my decades of ministry. You will not be receiving judgment or condemnation from me. Now, dear boy, do tell me about this tattoo,” Aziraphale patted Crowley on the knee.</p><p>Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s and left it there. “So I moved to New York City back in 1981. Was 18. Not a good situation but got me out of London. I was working a few dead-end jobs to try to make ends meet but it wasn’t enough and I was miserable. Got into some…Other work too but that’s not important. Anyway one day I was walking home from my shitty job at a pizza place when I saw a flyer about an amateur night at a local strip joint. You ever heard of Jezebel’s Palace, Aziraphale?”</p><p>“Watched the documentary not long ago. Madame Tracy seemed like an interesting woman, and it was certainly an interesting place,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>Crowley nodded. “Glad you know her. She was a damn good woman. Haven’t watched it but wouldn’t be surprised if there’s footage of me in there somewhere. I’ll have to look. Anyway, y’know that it was like a Chippendale’s thing but she hired men who didn’t have the whole ripped with a six pack look goin’ on. Decided to go to the amateur night. Whoever was the ‘best in show’ got a couple hundred bucks. Needed the cash and figured it wouldn’t hurt to dance for some horny women.</p><p>“Well, turns out I was actually good at it. I’m a natural on the pole. The women loved me and I won the money. I got so many tips I couldn’t believe it. Never saw that much money in my life, angel. ‘N Madame Tracy came up after it was all done and offered me a job. So I took it. Loved the attention, and I could feel all the lust in the air. Was intoxicating in my teens and early twenties.</p><p>“After watching me perform for a couple weeks, Madame Tracy came up with my stage name. She called me the Serpent of Eden because the way I moved my body was so tempting. She’d always say that I could tempt any of the women in the audience to take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Made me laugh but she was right. Took advantage of that as much as I could to make a little more money, ‘f I’m being honest.”</p><p>“You mean…” Aziraphale cut himself off and took a drink of wine.</p><p>“Fucking, angel. I fucked them. If a woman came up to me and I could sense she was willing to pay extra for a little more of my time, I’d make suggestions. Let her decide what way it’d go, ‘course. One woman and I ended up having a thing for a while. Her name was Zera. Best sex I ever had. She was a tattoo artist. I’d been wanting to get a tattoo for a while but didn’t really know what to get. Bit of a bad boy phase.”</p><p>Aziraphale giggled. “A phase? My dear boy, I don’t think it ever ended.”</p><p>Crowley grinned. “Guess you’re right. I’ve always been a bit of a demon. So anyway, one night after I finished my routine, Zera asked if she could ink me. She had sketches of what she wanted to do, and said she’d do it for free. Loved her design and so I said fuck it, why not? Her portfolio was good. Took multiple sessions and parts of it hurt like hell, but it was worth it. After it healed up I made a lot more money. When I dance it looks like it’s moving along with me. S’cool.”</p><p>“I agree, Crowley. It is quite cool. How do you feel about it now that so many years have passed?” Aziraphale turned his hand over to gently grip Crowley’s. Crowley squeezed his hand.</p><p>“Good question. Once in a blue moon seeing it triggers some pretty bad memories. If I’m in a bad way it makes me think about all my friends who’re gone. Most the time I love it. Reminds me of all I’ve overcome. And it’s sexy and all these years later it still draws people’s attention. Gives me a confidence boost. Not like I need it, I know I’m gorgeous,” Crowley said smugly.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “It certainly drew my attention. Thank you, Crowley, for humoring my curiosity…May I ask what happened to Zera? Do you still have correspondence?”</p><p>“More wine first, angel. Mine’s all out. And I expect you to give me some dirt about yourself if I share about her. Deal?”</p><p>“Deal, my dear.”</p><p>They finished the bottle in silence, and Aziraphale opened another one. It was a shitty five dollar wine, but it would get the job done. Once they were both tipsy, Crowley spoke.</p><p>“Zera died in 1984. AIDS took her. IV drug use. Thank Someone I always insisted on condoms no matter who I was with. Didn’t want any kids. Could never afford child support and I didn’t want to be tied down. And y’never know what people might have. I may’ve been a hooker, but I needed to protect myself. Tried to get Zera help when I found out. Tried to sober her up, get her into a program. But there was nothing I could do. She used up until the very end… So I heard, anyway,” Crowley wiped away a tear.</p><p>Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in his, not giving him a chance to wipe the wetness away from his palm. “I know the pain of losing someone to AIDS all too well… Too, too many people. Especially my… Well anyway, please continue. I apologize for interrupting.”</p><p>“S’okay.  Helps me to know you get it. I wasn’t with her when she died. Just couldn’t handle her self-destructing with drugs. I feel guilty about that still. Like I abandoned her. But I know I had to take care of myself. I had enough going on in my own life. Don’t want to get into that now, but someday I’ll tell you. Can’t say anymore about that, ‘bout her.” Crowley took another drink and held Aziraphale’s hand a little tighter. He loved that Aziraphale showed him affection. He hadn’t realized how touch starved he was until Aziraphale came into his life.</p><p>“Crowley, it’s a privilege to hear your story. I’m so, so sorry you lost her to drug use and then such a horrible illness. Watching someone fall apart in that way is devastating and never really leaves us. While I have not experienced that with someone who was actively using substances, I know how heartbreaking it is to lose someone to AIDS. I’ve never been the same since the 80s. It sounds like you haven’t been, either. To think we survived it, and so many of us are gone…” Aziraphale sighed heavily.</p><p>The room went quiet as a cloud of grief washed over them. Neither of them had spoken much about that time in their lives. To have the sense that they could trust each other with such deep wounds was a gift. A blessing that Aziraphale felt deep within his soul. He remembered Joshua’s words: <em>God blessed you with a spiritual friend. Cherish every moment, Pastor Fell. People like your friend don’t come along every day.</em></p><p>“I’ve told you stuff I’ve never said much about. Never talked about Zera with anyone before, to be real with you, angel. I think it’s fair I ask you a question now. That alright?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. While he could never reciprocate such deep sharing in pastoral settings, he could with Crowley. If their friendship was to be true, he had to share. It wasn’t easy for him, but he wanted a two-way street. Crowley deserved that. He deserved it too, having been denied it so long.</p><p>“Saw that picture of a clergy person and a wet guy in your bathroom by your T. What’s that all about? Isn’t Saint Christopher that patron saint of travel or some other thing?”</p><p>Oh no. He’d completely forgotten that tomorrow—well, today, now—was his shot day. Aziraphale didn’t want to talk about Christopher. Didn’t want to be honest about that part of his past. But Aziraphale had to, and he knew it. He had to be vulnerable, open his heart. Even if it ripped him apart for a few days.</p><p>He finished his glass of wine to distract himself for a moment. “First, I must tell you that that clergyperson was me. My name was still Aziraphale. I never bothered to change it because I quite like it. It’s an old family name and I couldn’t bear to part with it. Where would you like me to begin, Crowley? There is a lot there… Are you in a place where you would like the whole story, or would the shortened version be more acceptable? I do not wish to overwhelm you with information, given all that you have shared.”</p><p>“Whatever you feel comfortable with, angel. Not going to demand you tell me anything you don’t want to. I do want to know what was with the vestments…Never seen ones like that before,” Crowley admitted.</p><p>Aziraphale took a deep breath. “I am going to tell you the long story, then. I feel that if I do not, Christopher’s place in my life will not make sense. So please, bear with me. And if at any point what I say is too much, please tell me. I will stop immediately.”</p><p>“‘Course. ‘N if it gets too hard for you, you can stop too. Not like this is the last chat we’re ever going to have,” Crowley smiled.</p><p>“I was a priestess back then in the denomination I was raised in—Holy Logos—from 1980 until 1985. Do you know anything about them?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“Never heard of ‘em. Need you to explain.”</p><p>“It is a rather small denomination. There are only churches in England and the United States. It began in the United States, in fact, and traveled across the pond. Women are the only ones who can become the priests of a congregation. However, men are the only ones allowed to become elders and bishops. Men are above women in every sense, and they are not to question the decisions that are made. We were to cover our heads, remain plain in order to maintain our purity and holiness. They always cited 1 Corinthians 11:1-9:</p><p><em>Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ.</em> Now I praise you, brethren, that ye remember me in all things, and keep the ordinances, as I delivered them to you. But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God. Every man praying or prophesying, having his head covered, dishonoureth his head. But every woman that prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered dishonoureth her head: for that is even all one as if she were shaven. For if the woman be not covered, let her also be shorn: but if it be a shame for a woman to be shorn or shaven, let her be covered. For a man indeed ought not to cover his head, forasmuch as he is the image and glory of God: but the woman is the glory of the man. For the man is not of the woman: but the woman of the man. Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man.</p><p>I struggled with it as long as I was within the church. I did not mind the head coverings, but I most certainly disliked the belief that men were above women. It was horrible to have no say in the beliefs of the church. I was only permitted to preach, provide pastoral care, and administer the sacraments. My sermons were carefully read by the Elders—all men—to make sure they fit within our understanding of orthodoxy.”</p><p>Crowley cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Doesn’t the Bible say that women aren’t supposed to speak in church or do anything?”</p><p>“Yes. But you know no one can fully follow everything the Bible says. And we looked to Junia, Euodia and Syntyche, women mentioned in epistles in the New Testament. I suppose at least it was understood that women had an important role in the spreading of the Gospel. We know there were many, many more that were never mentioned, of course. And the Holy Logos believed that only a woman’s touch, voice, and motherly instincts could comfort a flock in a pastoral sense. Men ruled, women comforted,” Aziraphale explained.</p><p>“What a crock of shite. Misogyny at its finest,” Crowley sneered.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, complete and utter misogyny. I still wrestle with parts of it in my head. Embedded theology is quite challenging to shake…I digress. Now, I received my college education when I would have been in high school. I was a rather precocious child. It was at my grandmother’s strong urging to my mother. Fathers only have a providing and disciplinary role in the family of Holy Logos believers. It is up to women to tend to the children and love them. Women are permitted to make decisions in the home. When I received my undergraduate degree, my family immediately sent me to our denomination’s seminary in the United States. They recognized my call to ministry and wanted me to follow it. I was there from 1978 to 1980, and then I was ordained as soon as I concluded my studies.</p><p>“I followed the rules as closely as I could. I did not stray, I did my best to push down any doubts I had. But my greatest struggle was how I felt about myself. I knew something was different about me. When I looked at myself, with my head covering and my feminine dress—we were only permitted to wear skirts—it felt wrong. When I looked at the men sitting in the pews, the elders, the bishops, I saw myself. Now do not misunderstand me. I did not want the power or privilege; I felt I was supposed to <em>be </em>them. I knew inside I was a man. I was terrified of that thought, denied it, prayed that God would take this thorn from my side. I was told God made us male and female, heterosexual, and any deviation from gender roles and heterosexuality was a sin. Punishable by excommunication.”</p><p>“Church is still backwards on all that thinking. Few of ‘em seem to get it. If God—if there even is one at all—supposedly made us who we are, then they’re a bunch of idiots. Must’ve sucked so bad to go through that. ‘Specially back then when you were so young,” Crowley replied.</p><p>Aziraphale frowned and looked down at his empty glass. “Yes, I certainly take your position on the matter. It has taken me a long time to accept myself, but Christopher is the one who helped me begin that journey. Christopher began attending my church in 1982. We were immediately attracted to each other. Dare I say love at first sight. I couldn’t help but follow my gut and commit to him. We kept it a secret—we had no choice. It was strictly forbidden to date a congregant. I agree with this belief and would never do such a thing now. But in this case I simply could not resist Christopher. Priestesses were not permitted to marry and were to remain chaste, like nuns. I could not keep my hands off of him, neither could he keep them off of me.</p><p>“I lived in the church parsonage. Christopher came over every single night and left early in the morning. I do not know how we never were caught. I believe that God was protecting us, protecting our love.”</p><p>Crowley rolled his eyes when Aziraphale wasn’t looking. He couldn’t help but internally scoff at that belief. How could he possibly believe God would protect them? God never did a bloody good thing as far as Crowley was concerned.</p><p>“I revealed to Christopher all of my innermost thoughts, my feelings, my very soul to him. When I told him I felt I was truly a man, he supported me. And he said that he knew I was the moment we met. He just sensed it. Christopher bought me men’s clothes and I would wear them when we were together. He loved me unconditionally. I never felt that before Christopher, and I have not felt that since. God sent him to me when I needed love and acceptance most. The day I baptized him was one of the happiest days of my life. Late that night, we made love in the baptismal font. A truly scandalous thing, now that I think about it. But it was a consummation of our commitment to each other, our commitment to Christ. He was the Jesus to my Beloved Disciple in that moment…I felt we became one flesh. But then…Then…” Aziraphale suddenly burst into tears.</p><p>Crowley took Aziraphale’s wine glass and put it on the table and set his down along with it. He held his arms out, and Aziraphale fell into them. Crowley held him tight as he cried.</p><p>“Shh, shh… S’okay, angel. I’ve got you,” he said softly as he gently rubbed Aziraphale’s back.</p><p>After a half hour, Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley’s embrace and grabbed a tissue from the coffee table. He blew his nose and dried his eyes. When he saw the state of Crowley’s shirt, he blushed in embarrassment.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Crowley. It has been so long since I’ve spoken about him…Do you need a new shirt? Let me go get you one,” Aziraphale tried to stand up, but Crowley pulled him back down onto the couch.</p><p>“No, don’t need one. D’you want to continue? I’d like to hear more about him…But if you need space and can’t, I get it.”</p><p>Aziraphale sighed. “I-I’d like to continue. Christopher deserves to be talked about, and it’s hard to admit that he’s almost been a secret in my life since his death…I trust you with my memories of him. But please forgive me if I cry again. Although it has been decades, his absence in my life still hurts deeply.”</p><p>“Cry ‘s much as you need to. Doesn’t scare me one bit. Death sucks.”</p><p>“That it does, my dear…Christopher was a hemophiliac. At the beginning of 1983, we found out he was HIV positive. He got it from a treatment. Like you, I am fortunate that Christopher and I used protection. We did not want to risk having a child and destroying my career. Now the Holy Logos bishops decided that HIV/AIDS was a punishment from God, and that it only affected gay and lesbian people. If anyone got the virus, regardless of the way they became infected, they were by default homosexual.”</p><p>“Bloody hell, angel. That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard!”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, dear boy, I agree. I knew it was wrong. They did not understand and decided that judgment and cruelty was the best way to handle this crisis. Christopher and I hid his illness as long as we could. When he began wasting away and looked deathly ill, congregants began to speculate. He was always a more effeminate man, and people were quite rude to him at times. The elders demanded that he tell them if he was infected. Christopher admitted it. He was banished from the church, and he was shunned by my flock.</p><p>“But I refused to abandon him. They were wrong. Their treatment of Christopher made them sinners in the eyes of the Lord. I would never, could never, abide by what they’d done. For the first time in my life, I was brave. I spent my free time at Christopher’s apartment to take care of him until the day he died.  We were fortunate to have found a hospice nurse—a lesbian that Christopher and I befriended—and she came and helped make him comfortable. Christopher died in my arms on January 1<sup>st</sup>, 1985…” Aziraphale blotted his eyes with the crumpled tissue.</p><p>“You need to stop?” Crowley asked in concern.</p><p>“No but thank you for asking. I owe this to Christopher…To myself. Before he passed, we married in secret. He had no family. That was by choice; he was raised in an abusive home and ran away at a young age. A priestess—Deborah—married us. She pastored in a neighboring town but we were good friends. She wanted to help us in any way she could…Deborah risked her ordination for us, and I will forever be grateful for her.</p><p>“After Christopher died, I had him cremated, as was required for all Holy Logos believers. When he was returned in a plain urn, I recited Genesis 3:19, an important part of our tradition: <em>In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.</em>”</p><p>“Isn’t that when God’s pissed off at Adam and Eve because they ate from the tree of knowledge? What does that have to do with anything?” Crowley interrupted.</p><p>Aziraphale appreciated the brief distraction from the painful memory he was soon to share. “Within the tradition, it speaks to the cycle of life. God created us, and when our lives come to an end we will return to the dirt and dust that She created us from. We will return to where we began. It is most appropriate to be cremated, so that we will become ‘dust’ so to speak.”</p><p>Crowley grunted in acknowledgment.</p><p>“I took Christopher’s remains to my church on Saturday afternoon. That is when all funeral services were held. The congregation caught wind of it and shoved their way into the church building. I put his urn on the altar, kneeled in front of him and chanted his name. I prayed for his soul to return to God, as was custom. Normally, the congregation would also be kneeling, chanting along with me and praying for his eternal rest. Christopher was not given that respect. As I conducted the funeral, congregants came up to me. They screamed and yelled, hit me with their purses, pulled out my hair, spit on me. My bonnet was removed from my head, my robes were torn to shreds. But I continued. I would not leave Christopher without a proper funeral.</p><p>“At the conclusion of the service, the presiding priestess carries the urn above her head and out of the church doors. The urn is walked to the cemetery that the dead will be buried in. I carried Christopher to St. Mary’s cemetery nearby. His grave was ready and waiting. The congregants trailed behind me, saying horrendous things and parroting what the bishops and elders said about people with HIV/AIDS. I did not look back and I tried my best not to listen. I owed it to Christopher. I was able to lay him to rest properly, as he deserved. He was a beautiful, incredible, heavenly Christian man. The truest one I have ever known.</p><p>“That Sunday, I was stripped of my ordination and kicked out of the parsonage. I was not allowed to retrieve any of my possessions. My family disowned me because I shamed them. I was fortunate to have been taken in by Deborah in secret until I could land on my feet again. She truly was an angel sent from the Lord, Crowley. I lost everything I had ever known, but Christopher was worth every bit of pain and hurt I experienced. In our tradition, each believer had a saint. It would be someone they knew in their life who died. Priestesses told us that we would feel it in our very bones. Christopher is mine. He is my patron saint of courage and authenticity. I remember that he was the first and only person who has ever truly loved me. I remember that he let me be myself and saw me as the man I am today, even though I could not be out back then. So I honor him and pray to him every time I administer my dose of testosterone. Without him, I would not be me.” A tender smile formed on Aziraphale’s face and he wiped away a few tears. He felt at peace, set free by sharing one of the hardest experiences of his life. He felt Christopher’s presence. Christopher would be remembered now, not only by Aziraphale but by Crowley. His life would touch another.</p><p>Crowley eyes widened. He took Aziraphale’s hand in his. “Holy shit, angel. That’s fucked up what happened to you. Loved someone and you got kicked to the curb. Did what Jesus did, took care of someone that society thought of was a leper. And those so called ‘Christians’ thought you were the one in the wrong… Christopher sounds amazing and ‘m glad you chose him instead.”</p><p>“I’m glad too. I will never regret Christopher. Thank you for encouraging me to speak about him, Crowley. I do not know if I ever would have brought him up if you did not ask,” Aziraphale interlaced his fingers with Crowley’s. He loved that Crowley permitted his touch.</p><p>“Talk about him anytime you’d like, angel. When you miss him, when something that happens reminds you of him, on your shot days. If he’s important to you, he’s important to me.”</p><p>Aziraphale noticed the time. It was nearing 4 in the morning. He couldn’t believe they’d shared parts of their histories with each other. Aziraphale had never shared that much about his life. After the trauma of Christopher’s death and his excommunication, Aziraphale rarely shared anything about his life. But finally, he met someone who he could talk to. Aziraphale said a quick prayer of gratitude to Christopher; he believed that he had a hand in bringing them together.</p><p>“Oh dear, it is awfully early. I need to wake up in four hours. We should probably get some rest. You will sleep in my bed. I put on a pair of fresh sheets this morning. Now up you get, you need your rest,” Aziraphale took his hand away from Crowley’s and encouraged him to stand up.</p><p>“I can take the couch, angel. It’s your house and I’m the guest. Don’t need your bed.”</p><p>“Crowley, your legs are far too long to sleep comfortably on the couch. And <em>because</em> you are my guest, you deserve the bed. I will make sure I’m as quiet as possible in the morning so as not to wake you. Do sleep as long as you need, and when I return from Waiting Worship let’s get brunch.”</p><p>“Ahh yes, the gay agenda. Sunday: get brunch,” Crowley smirked.</p><p>“Indeed, dear boy. And on Tuesday we will have to get tacos. Another important part of our agenda!” Aziraphale giggled.</p><p>Crowley excused himself and went into Aziraphale’s room. He was too tired to brush his teeth; he knew he’d regret the taste of stale wine when he woke up, but he didn’t care. Crowley wrapped himself up like a cocoon in Aziraphale’s sheets and comforter. The smell of lavender and eucalyptus enveloped him, and he fell asleep almost immediately.</p><p>Aziraphale went into the bathroom, grabbed the picture of Christopher, and put it on the coffee table. As he covered himself with a quilt, Aziraphale smiled at his late husband.</p><p>“Thank you, Christopher,” Aziraphale whispered and fell into a deep sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>All scripture references in this chapter come from the King James Version (KJV)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale’s smartphone alarm woke him with a start at 8:30. He allowed himself to sleep in a little longer than normal. Crowley had taught him how to set an alarm on his new phone, and he was grateful for that. It was much better than the old-fashioned clock he used before. He was feeling quite tired from the night before, but it was worth it. Aziraphale felt calm and at peace.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">He didn’t want to wake up. He’d had a lovely dream with Christopher and Crowley in it. They were all sitting down at Thanks a Latte. Christopher and Crowley got along well. The three of them were talking about religion, having fun little debates, and laughing all the while. Hours passed and the conversation never dried up. Near the end of the dream, Christopher took Aziraphale by the hand when Crowley went to get a round of desserts. He looked into Aziraphale’s eyes and gave him the smile that always made his heart melt. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Christopher leaned in and whispered in Aziraphale’s ear. “<em>A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance</em>. Azi, it’s time to laugh and dance. It’s okay, I promise you.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Christopher’s voice was crystal clear, deep and cheerful. Aziraphale knew his deceased husband had visited him in his dream; he’d done so a few times over the years. But never this vividly. Christopher was setting Aziraphale free. He was giving Aziraphale the permission he needed to move on. He had grieved and mourned Christopher’s life and unconditional love for long enough. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Since Christopher’s death, Aziraphale feared that if he fell in love again, they would not be reunited in Heaven. It was a belief the Holy Logos embedded within him. Every time Aziraphale felt something for another, the words of the Elders flooded his mind: “You only are to take one spouse. God has one love and one love alone for you. Should your helpmate die, you must remain a widow. To break your eternal vows will condemn you to a room in Heaven alone, with no one beside you.” Aziraphale hadn’t been intimate since Christopher’s death, and he missed it terribly. He’d been too afraid that he’d never see Christopher again. But here he was, visiting Aziraphale and assuring him that things would be alright. They would see each other again no matter if Aziraphale found another.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale no longer had to deny to himself that he was interested in Crowley. He had no clue if Crowley felt the same. And besides, Aziraphale needed more time to truly get to know Crowley. Their different spiritual beliefs, Crowley’s mistrust of Christians and pastors, and the pain he could tell was hidden behind those fashionable sunglasses needed to be sorted out first. With Christopher it was easy; they were both devout Christians. But things with Crowley—if they ever went beyond a friendship—would be more complex. Crowley’s agnosticism was not an issue as far as Aziraphale was concerned. Rather, it was the harm clergy and Christianity caused that was the problem. It wasn’t Crowley’s fault. Aziraphale understood that trust needed to be established and a solid foundation needed to be built. There was no need to go fast. Aziraphale knew he needed to give this over to God, trust Her guidance as his friendship with Crowley deepened. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">With a smile on his lips and a spring in his step, Aziraphale got ready for work. He wrote a note for Crowley and put it on the bathroom mirror before he left. Aziraphale prayed that Crowley would see it, and that his friend would still be there when he concluded his workday. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">***</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale was shocked to see both familiar and new faces. Few people usually showed up for Waiting Worship. Silence was not something many people were into. But now, there were 15 folks sitting in the pews with their eyes closed and hearts open. It was more than he’d ever seen on a silent Sunday in his decade of ministry in Tadfield. Thank God for Crowley’s help getting a social media presence set up!</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Halfway into worship, a person stood up and began to speak. It had been quite a while since Aziraphale heard someone deliver vocal ministry, and he was curious to see who it was. He opened his eyes for briefly and was shocked to see it was Newt! He had a Bible in his hand and was reciting a piece of scripture. Aziraphale closed his eyes again and focused on what the young man was saying:</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“<em>But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God,</em></span>
  <em> <span class="text">and no torment will ever touch them.</span> <span class="text">In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died,</span> <span class="text">and their departure was thought to be a disaster,</span><br/>
<span class="text">and their going from us to be their destruction;</span> <span class="text">but they are at peace.</span> <span class="text">For though in the sight of others they were punished,</span> <span class="text">their hope is full of immortality.</span> <span class="text">Having been disciplined a little, they will receive great good,</span> <span class="text">because God tested them and found them worthy of himself;</span> <span class="text">like gold in the furnace he tried them,</span> <span class="text">and like a sacrificial burnt offering he accepted them.</span> <span class="text">In the time of their visitation they will shine forth,</span> <span class="text">and will run like sparks through the stubble</span></em>
  <span class="text">.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“My mum used to read this to me every November 1<sup>st</sup>. She loved All Saints Day. We’d talk about people we loved who died. Today I’m thinking about her. Mum always told me that I could do anything I set my mind to. It wasn’t true but it’s helped me never give up. I miss her and wonder if she’s still around in my life. But my partner helped me realize that people we love never leave. Her great great great Grandma… I don’t know how far back she goes…But she visits Anathema in her dreams. She’s written down stuff that Anathema’s family’s read for centuries now. Feels nice to know that my mum still lives when I remember the support she gave me, and she even visited me once. Glad I have a Saint like my mum and a partner who helps me see God at work in my life.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale wept softly. He knew that the Holy Spirit was speaking to him through Newt’s vocal ministry. Yet another reassurance from God that everything would be alright. If he shared his memories of Christopher, welcomed his occasional visits, and lived his life and listened to his late husband’s wisdom, they would never be separated. He could let go of his fears of what could happen in the afterlife. Most of all, Aziraphale could be happy again. Truly happy. Something that he had not allowed for himself in many, many years. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">At the end of worship, Aziraphale approached Newt. As was often the case, Newt appeared nervous and out of place. He was sweating bullets.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Newt, are you okay? What has come over you?” Aziraphale asked with concern.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“W-well…Pastor Fell, was it okay that I spoke today? I just felt like I should, but I don’t really know if that was appropriate. Never heard anyone else do it on these Sundays…Did I break some rule that I didn’t know about?” Newt worried at his bottom lip.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale put his hand on Newt’s shoulder. “It was a wonderful gift to the congregation, Newt. You followed the Spirit’s leading to share a message with us. It is an important part of our practice as Beloved Disciples. I must admit, I believe your message was meant for me this morning. I was thinking of a dear…friend I lost many years ago who has become a saint in my life over time. God speaks to others through us, Newt, and I am thankful you listened to Her this morning.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Newt breathed a sigh of relief. “Ah, thanks Pastor Fell. Glad that it was alright that I spoke and that it helped you. That reminds me. Anathema told me that you’re supposed to come over tonight. I-I know we didn’t plan it. I tried to respond to your email but our computer died again. But she said that Agnes Nutter, her great great something grandmother, visited her last night and told her that you and some other person were supposed to have dinner with us. Said some tall person with red hair and sunglasses.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. Maybe Crowley would still be at his apartment when he finished up with work! Maybe he’d even want to share a meal with two wonderful people. How exciting! </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Newt, I do not have plans this evening, so I happily accept your invitation! And the person that Anathema is referring to is my dear friend Crowley. I am not quite sure if Ms. Nutter’s suggestion that Crowley will join us is correct, though I will ask him and see. What time are you expecting me?” Aziraphale asked.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“6. We’ll be having…Something. Anathema didn’t tell me what. See you then, Pastor Fell.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">***</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley woke up at 10 a.m. His back was a little stiff—Aziraphale’s mattress was on old and he could feel the springs whenever he shifted. Maybe Aziraphale would let him buy him a new memory foam mattress for Christmas. He tucked away the thought for later and grabbed his overnight bag and headed for the bathroom.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">When he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed a note taped to the it. Crowley grabbed it and read it:</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2"> </p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">
    <em>Dear Boy,</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">
    <em>Our conversation last night was one of the most important of my life. I am deeply grateful for your friendship. Thank you for listening. I hope you will still be here when I return from church. I will be back around 11:30. I have left a fresh towel on the rack for you to use so you can take a shower. If you do not have a toothbrush or toothpaste, you can find extras in the third drawer. Please, help yourself to some coffee or tea. Everything is laid out on the kitchen counter for you. Also, help yourself to anything in the fridge or cabinets if you are hungry. Make yourself at home.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">
    <em>Your Friend,</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">
    <em>Angel </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2"> </p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley’s read the note over and over again. He couldn’t believe it. Aziraphale hoped he’d still be there when he got off work. He wanted to share what little he had with Crowley so he could feel at home. Aziraphale <em>wanted </em>him around. He genuinely appreciated and enjoyed his company. Crowley smiled so wide that his face hurt.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Before he got too caught up in his feelings, Crowley turned on the shower. As he was waiting for the water to heat up, he decided to play whatever CD was in the boombox. He turned up the volume loud enough so he could hear it clearly and stepped in the nearly scalding water.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">The sound of a harp filled the air, and a soft, soothing male voice began to sing. It was too soft for Crowley’s tastes, so he ignored it, focusing instead on lathering his hair with lavender scented shampoo. When he rinsed his hair, he caught some of the lyrics. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2"> </p><p class="chapter-2">
  <em>I remember you<br/>
You're the one who said I love you too<br/>
Didn't you know</em>
</p><p class="chapter-2"> </p><p class="chapter-2">He felt his heart sink at the words. Aziraphale listened to this song. Often. When he thought about Christopher. When he lifted up prayers of intercession for Christopher to take to God… Or something like that. All these years later and Aziraphale never stopped loving him. Yet he kept all the memories with Christopher to himself. It hurt Crowley’s heart to think about. But there was something sweet about how Aziraphale was truly a being of undying love.</p><p class="chapter-2"> </p><p class="chapter-2">
  <em>When my life is through<br/>
And the angels ask me to recall<br/>
The thrill of them all<br/>
Then I will tell them I remember you</em>
</p><p class="chapter-2"> </p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley’s thoughts shifted inward. If Heaven was real, if there were angels waiting around at the Pearly Gates, asking who he loved and remembered, Crowley would have no answer. Crowley had never once been in love. Sure he cared about Zera, but not in that way. No one had ever loved him, and he had never loved anyone in return. He’d never made love, only fucked. It was nearly always transactional, for survival. He was bitter and jaded. Crowley did his best to push people away, keep them at arm’s length, farther if he had his way. Once he no longer had to engage in sex work to survive, he refused to be physically or emotionally intimate with anyone. The last time a person shared his bed for a night was 1985. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">But being around Aziraphale was changing the way he felt about intimacy. He was smitten. He was sauntering vaguely downward into a feeling beyond just physical attraction. He wasn’t sure if it was love or not, but it was powerful all the same. He wanted Aziraphale to call and text him all the time, tell him what was on his mind. He hoped for more deep conversations where they bared parts of themselves that they’d never felt safe enough to do before. Crowley longed to hold his hand not as a friend, but as a partner. He wanted to hold Aziraphale in his arms not only when he cried, but when he was happy. Crowley wondered what it would be like to kiss Aziraphale’s lips. Would they be as soft as the rest of him?</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley turned the water off and sighed. His feelings morphed into self-loathing. As he dried off, he looked closely at his body. Thin, lanky, all sharp angles. There was no part of him that was soft. Crowley looked and saw the picture of Christopher had been returned to its original place. He looked sturdy, strong, safe. Is that what Aziraphale liked best? If he were to ever seek a partner, would Aziraphale want a cub, a bear, someone strong? Crowley could never be that. He was a man-shaped being, but he preferred to dress femme. He didn't particularly identify as either much of the time. He could never be anything like Christopher.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">He wondered about their spiritual differences. Crowley would never, could never, be a Christian. Did Aziraphale only want someone who professed the same faith? Did they have to be in the same denomination? Crowley knew he could never go to church, be a proper “pastor’s wife.” When Aziraphale got to know his story more, would he see Crowley as the broken, battered, and bruised person that he was? Sure, Aziraphale had a pastor’s heart. But was there room for a man like Crowley in it? Or was Aziraphale always and forever spoken for?</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Saint Christopher help me,” Crowley muttered to himself. He couldn’t think about this right now. Self-loathing wasn’t going to do him any good. What mattered was this moment. Aziraphale wanted him here. That was enough for now. That was a good sign. He pushed it all out of his mind and focused on getting dressed. He put on dark red lipstick, a black leather miniskirt, black tights, and a red, scoop neck henley. Crowley’s confidence came back. He smirked to himself and caressed his thighs. Even if nothing ever happened between them, Crowley could see plain as day how affected Aziraphale was when he dressed more feminine.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">He looked at his phone and saw it was getting close to the time when Aziraphale would return. Time to rustle through the kitchen and put something together.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2"> </p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">***</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2"> </p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">When Aziraphale saw the Bentley still parked outside, he wiggled with joy. Crowley <em>stayed</em>. Despite Aziraphale’s oversharing the night before, Crowley didn’t run for the hills. To say he was excited to see Crowley was an understatement. He hurried up the stairs, and when he opened his apartment door the smell of delicious food hit him. Crowley was sitting at the kitchen table, cup of coffee in his hands. The table was set and brunch was waiting. As wonderful as the food looked, Aziraphale couldn’t help but focus his attention more on Crowley. While he admired Crowley’s appearance no matter what he wore, there was something about him in more feminine attire that made his heart race.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Hey, angel. Got your cup of tea ready, and I made omelets. Know breakfast doesn’t last you long on Sundays, and I saw your note. Figured it was okay to make us something. So c’mon, your plate’s waiting for you,” Crowley smiled from the kitchen table.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Oh, Crowley. Thank you so ever so much for making brunch. It smells absolutely scrummy!” Aziraphale kicked off his shoes and rushed over to the table.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale moaned obscenely with each bite. It was music to Crowley’s ears, knowing that Aziraphale’s pleasure came from him. He finished the whole plate in no time flat.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“My dear, that was incredible. I cannot recall ever having an omelet that delicious in my life. You’re a natural cook. Thank you for taking the time to do something so thoughtful… I was worried you’d be gone by the time I returned.” Aziraphale fiddled with his napkin and blushed.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Why d’you say that?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale looked away from Crowley. “I, ah, was concerned that I’d shared too much with you last night. I must tell you, Crowley, that I have not shared such personal information since Christopher passed. And, given your feelings about religion…I was worried I’d crossed a boundary,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Meant a lot to me that you told me ‘bout Christopher, Aziraphale. And your background too. Hard to hear you dealt with that bullshit, but it helped me a bit. I can trust you more now that I know you’ve been put through the ringer. Dunno if that makes sense. Also, I’ll tell you if it’s too much. Not much phases me, angel. I’m not a porcelain crucifix, y’know,” Crowley smirked.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“You certainly aren’t a delicate thing, especially given what you shared with me. Thank you, Crowley, for trusting me too. It is no small thing to share what you did.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. His black coffee suddenly became quite interesting. Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. Even if Crowley didn’t believe it, deep down he was a good person. And when he was with Aziraphale, it rose to the surface.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">After lunch, Crowley and Aziraphale lazed around on the couch. Aziraphale read a book, and Crowley was sprawled out, tapping away on his phone. His legs were resting on Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, Aziraphale would occasionally pet Crowley’s legs.. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Crowley?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Do you happen to have any plans this evening?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley shook his head. “No, why? Got fun plans for us?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“If you are amenable, we received an invitation to a congregant and his partner’s home. His name is Newt Pulsifer, and his partner is Anathema Device. In fact, she is the one who runs the bookshop below my apartment.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley grinned. “Sounds fun, angel. I’m down. And y’know, I’ve been in her shop a few times. She has a whole section with all my books.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“You’ve written books? Of what sort?” Aziraphale asked.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Books on the medicinal qualities of certain plants, how to properly care for exotic plants, and tips for gardening. Didn’t use my real name. Called myself ‘Just a J’ because well, my middle name is just a J, really,” Crowley answered.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Crowley, she <em>loves </em>your books! When she isn’t reading about witchcraft, Ms. Nutter’s prophetic works, or rather trashy novels, Anathema enjoys your work. I recall her telling me that your advice about plants helped her create a salve when Newt burned himself on an iron. A witch and an anonymous botanist have proved to be quite a powerful duo,” he winked. Crowley chuckled.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">***</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale and Crowley arrived right on time. Newt greeted them at the door while Anathema finished cooking. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Newt, right? ‘M Crowley,” Crowley stuck out his hand. Newt wiped his palm on his pants before shaking Crowley’s hand. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Nice to meet you, Crowley. Forgive me about my hands; get a little nervous when I meet new people sometimes,” Newt said.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“S’okay. You should be a little nervous around me… Haven’t filled up my mischief meter yet today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to get a look at what’s cookin’,” Crowley pushed past Newt and sauntered to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Newt shook his head in confusion and looked at Aziraphale. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">He shrugged. “That is simply the way Crowley is. Do not take anything he says or does personally.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Good to know, I guess…” Newt rubbed the back of his head and looked away. “How’d you meet him? Still kind of confused why Agnes mentioned him to Anathema…”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale smiled. “The way she communicates with Anathema is quite fascinating, I agree. I suppose only Anathema and Ms. Nutter know the answer. Maybe she will let us in on the secret, but I shan’t get my hopes up. Now, you were asking about how I met Crowley?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Newt nodded. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Well then, good fellow, let’s sit down at the table and I’ll tell you all about it.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">As Aziraphale retold the story of how they met, Crowley spent time with Anathema. The stew was ready and she was pulling her homemade bread out of the oven. She didn’t turn to look at Crowley when he came in. She knew he would arrive and that he would pester her in the kitchen. Agnes let her know what she needed to say to Crowley later that night, but other than that she had no idea what would happen.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“So, I hear you’re a big fan of mine,” Crowley smirked and leaned against the fridge.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Anathema looked at him in confusion. “I knew you were coming today but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can’t be a fan of someone who’s not a celebrity, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“A certain pastor told me you read a lot of ‘Just a J’…Making salves for your Newt, spicing up your potions or whatever witches do. If you’ve ever wanted his autograph, tonight’s the night.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Her eyes widened in surprise with the new information. As she processed what he said, Crowley slinked over to the stove, grabbed a wooden spoon, and tasted the stew. She tried to swat him out of the way, but Crowley continued to hover over it.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“S’good, but it could benefit from some cayenne pepper or something with a little heat. You need white people levels of spice? Or is that for Newt’s sake.” Crowley licked the rest of the stew off the spoon and tossed it in the sink.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Anathema glared at him. “Newt’s sensitive, Crowley. You’re just going to have to eat what’s in your bowl or you can go hungry. Look at the sign above the stove.” Anathema pointed and Crowley looked. It was a picture of a bear at a table with silverware in its hands. It said “What’s for dinner? Take it or leave it!” Crowley snorted.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Make yourself useful.” Anathema handed Crowley a bread knife and shooed him to the cooling loaf. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Okay, okay,” Crowley grumbled and got to work.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“So, you’re ‘Just a J’… Pastor Fell is right, I am one of your biggest fans. Your work, especially <em>Secrets of the Plants </em>has helped me with spells and making healing balms and soaks. But I have one question for you. This has bothered me ever since I picked up your books for the first time.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Anathema pulled four bowls out of the cupboard and set them noisily on the counter. “What’s your obsession with dandelions? They’re useless and smell horrible. Barely even mentioned in the witchcraft world. And every time I’ve tried to use them in a salve with other plants you suggest using them with, they make my skin glow! Is there a secret to using them that I’m not picking up on?” </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, you’re not too young to remember rage comics, are you?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">She rolled her eyes. “I’m in my late 20s, Crowley. Of course I know what they are.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“You mad?” Crowley made a shockingly good impression of Troll Dad’s face. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“You trolled thousands of people…Why did I keep trying?! I should’ve known better!” Anathema smacked her forehead.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Done more than that. When you get a chance look up Dandelipro. Better yet, just ask Daddy Aziraphale. He’s got a polaroid to show you. Want me to take those bowls out for you?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Anathema sighed. “Go for it…And I would like an autograph,” she mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley cupped his ear. “Couldn’t hear you, witch. Speak up, this old man doesn’t have his hearing aids in.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">She came up right to his ear and spoke loud enough to hurt. “I would like an autograph!”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Ngk!”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">***</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Dinner began with the normal pleasantries. Anathema proved to be a worthy conversation partner as far as Crowley was concerned. Newt was a bit of an anxious mess, but he was kind. Aziraphale was encouraging him to speak and asking open ended questions. Crowley couldn’t help but smile every time Aziraphale spoke to him. Aziraphale’s pastor’s heart was a beautiful thing to behold.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">As Newt dished out blueberry cobbler for everyone, Crowley decided to push the conversation into religious territory. He couldn’t stop wondering if Aziraphale could handle being with someone of another faith—or a lack of faith. Newt and Anathema were from very different backgrounds, yet they seemed head over heels in love with each other. How was that possible?</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“So, going to ask the question I’ve been dying to ask since I got here. You’re a witch,” Crowley pointed at Anathema. “You’re a Christian,” Crowley pointed at Newt. “How’d you meet in the first place? And how’s a relationship work? Seems like you’d clash all the time.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale looked at Crowley in surprise. What a bold topic to bring up on a first visit! </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Anathema reached over and took Newt’s hand in hers. They smiled at each other. “Well, Crowley, I’ll tell you a funny story first. Newt’s ancestor, Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Pulsifer, actually burned mine, Agnus Nutter, at the stake. Accused her of being a witch, which was true. We actually met because he was doing research on his ancestry. In his family’s notes they had mentioned something about a witch who got revenge on an ancestor by hiding gun powder in her dress, blowing him up. Newt found out her name, and when he was walking around town one day, he saw the name of my shop. He came in and asked about it. I knew he was going to come and see me that day—I have some of Agnes’ prophecies that have been passed down through the generations. Asked him on a date after we talked for a while. We’ve been together ever since.” Newt squeezed her hand.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“Newt, you’ve never told me this story of how you met your beloved. I do so love the way God brings us together in unexpected ways. What a lovely story, Anathema. You two make such a lovely couple,” Aziraphale beamed.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Disney romance ‘n all that. All very cute and yeah you look great together. But the religion piece. How do you two not kill each other like Thou-Shalt something or another and Agnes did?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">For the first time in a while, Newt spoke. “W-well, that’s a good question, Crowley. We do have our differences and argue sometimes when we talk about our beliefs. I go to church every Sunday, read a devotional every morning and sit with the Bible my mom gave me as a kid. Anathema has an online group she video chats with twice a week. Kind of a coven? There aren’t any witches around Tadfield, so she’s had to get creative. But every night, Anathema and I engage in our spiritual practices together. I sit in silence or listen to Gregorian chants, and Anathema researches plants, spells, and sometimes makes potions during that time. I join her when there are important rituals. She teaches me, and while I do not understand a whole lot of it I try to be supportive. She doesn’t come to church with me, which I don’t mind. But she asks about the sermons, what I got from them, all of those things. I guess it comes down to the fact that we respect each other. And I love her.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Anathema smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you too, Newt. But yes, exactly what he said. Is that a satisfactory answer for you?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“From your end, sure. Daddy Aziraphale, what’s your take on interfaith relationships?” Crowley questioned.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Newt looked at Crowley and then Aziraphale. “Pastor Fell, I’ve been wondering the same thing, actually. What does the church say?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale took some time for silence before he spoke. “The Beloved Disciples are supportive of interfaith relationships and marriage. We believe that there is one Light—God—but there are many windows to Her. That is why, for example, we support people’s faith journeys and exploring their beliefs. Unlike churches like, say, the Rapture Church, which professes that one cannot be connected to God unless they belong to that church. So, really, as long as your love is real, genuine, and you are committed to each other, then there is not an issue. I have married many interfaith and ecumenical couples over my ministerial career. As we say, ‘there is that of God in everyone,’ and that is the case no matter what faith tradition one belongs to. Well…Except perhaps Devilists, but that is because they reject God and worship the Devil,” Aziraphale answered.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Newt and Anathema smiled at Aziraphale. They were satisfied and happy with his answer. Crowley was not.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“So you said what the church believes. Good because Newt’s your sheep. But what do <em>you </em>think?” Crowley asked a little more aggressively than he meant.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">“It is certainly important for a pastor to be transparent about their own spiritual beliefs. Part of why the Beloved Disciples drew me was because people are free to love each other. It does not matter if you are queer, in an interfaith/ecumenical relationship, have different backgrounds …All that matters is that the love is mutual and that one has found a helpmate—or helpmates—who encourage them to grow and be a better person. A Christian does not need to be married to another Christian to become a better, more faithful person. Even Jesus learned from people who were not Jewish! The Syrophoenician woman in Mark, called the Canaanite woman in Matthew, for example. Love and relationships go beyond religious boxes.” </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Crowley tried to interject, but Aziraphale continued. “And if you are wondering, no, I do not care what the Bible has to say about interfaith relationships. Times were different back then, and no argument can ever be solved by appealing to the Bible. It offers many things that help us and challenge us, but we have gained new information over time. I used to struggle deeply with this, I must admit. I used to believe the only way one could be faithful to God was to marry another Christian. But as I have gotten older, gotten to know people, and distanced myself from the conservative church of my youth, I have learned I was wrong. If Jesus’ love was not restrictive, then neither can mine be,” Aziraphale looked at Crowley and took a bite of his cobbler. He didn’t break eye contact.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Anathema changed the subject to something lighter, and the night ended on a good note. Aziraphale hugged Newt and Anathema goodbye and thanked them for their warmth and hospitality. Crowley nodded in affirmation and shook both their hands. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-2">
  <span class="text">Before Crowley could leave their home, Anathema grabbed him by the arm. He looked at her in surprise. She stared into his eyes, and Crowley felt like she was looking into his very soul. He swallowed hard. “There is a place at his table for you,” Anathema whispered in his ear.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Scripture References:</p><p>Christopher's words to Aziraphale: Ecclesiastes 3:4 (KJV)</p><p>Newt's vocal ministry: Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-7 (NRSV). This is an Apocryphal book.</p><p>Syrophoenician Woman: Mark 7:24-29<br/>Canaanite Woman: Matthew 15:21-28</p><p>Song Reference:<br/>"I Remember You." Crowley is listening to the George Michael version.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: homophobic/transphobic slurs, non-graphic masturbation</p><p>I cannot thank all of you enough who have commented. I am reading them all, and I am deeply touched by what you have shared. I am simply too tired to respond. Please continue commenting. It is spurring me on. Thank you ♥️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as Crowley and Aziraphale got in the car, Aziraphale’s gaze fell on Crowley. He didn’t take his eyes off of him. It was similar to the way Anathema had looked at him. Crowley felt a pang of anxiety creep up on him. He quickly looked away and started the car.</p><p>“Crowley, as I was answering your question this evening, I was reminded of one of my favorite hymns. May I tell you about it? Or have you had quite enough of my religious talks this weekend?” Aziraphale asked in a warm tone. There was no bite to it. Given the way Aziraphale had looked at him during dessert, he was concerned.</p><p>“You put up with my question tonight, think I can put up with listening to you talk about a hymn, angel,” he replied with a nod.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “Jolly good, then! So there is a hymn called ‘For Everyone Born, a Place at the Table’ by Shirley Murray. It’s contemporary. I usually prefer older hymns, as problematic as some of them may be. But this one…This one spoke to me. This hymn was actually the catalyst for changing my views about interfaith relationships and marriages.”</p><p>“When did you hear it the first time?”</p><p>“I heard it when I was ordained in the Beloved Disciples denomination. That was in the year 2000. We sang it at the end of the ceremony. I must admit that I cried.”</p><p>“Hard to believe that was 20 years ago, eh angel? Been Daddy Aziraphale for damn near an eternity,” Crowley chuckled.</p><p>“Why yes, ‘Daddy Aziraphale’ has been oh, what do the kids say? ‘Around the cul-de-sac’ for a good long time now,” Aziraphale replied.</p><p>Crowley groaned. “It’s ‘around the block’ but I’ll let it slide. Just this once. Mess up your idioms again and you’re getting kicked out of the Bentley,” he reached over and gave Aziraphale’s knee a little squeeze. “Jus’ kidding, angel. Back to what we were talking about.</p><p>Aziraphale put his hand over Crowley’s. “Oh, yes. Well, within the hymn, all people are mentioned as worthy of having a place at the table. No one is to be left behind. It is the optional verse, which unfortunately is often left out, that spoke to me.” Aziraphale sang a portion of the hymn softly in a tenor pitch:</p><p>
  <em>For gay and for straight, a place at the table,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>a covenant shared, a welcoming space,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>a rainbow of race and gender and colour,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>for gay and for straight, the chalice of grace.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“It was when I knew I made the right choice to be ordained within the Beloved Disciples denomination, but there is so much more to it. It was this portion that made me think about my sexuality and gender identity and where I fit into the big picture of serving an Ineffable God. If I believe—as I have since Christopher—that queer love is a beautiful thing beloved by God, then how could I exclude people with different belief systems? Especially as I acknowledge the trauma and pain Christianity has caused you…Me…People like us. Like Newt and Anathema, if there is respect and care between people of different faiths, then how could I possibly oppose it? How could I think it went against Christ? Challenging my embedded theology about relationships with only Christians was far from easy. But I am thankful for the gift of music that helped me open my eyes.”</p><p>Crowley looked at Aziraphale for a brief moment (he was driving after all). Aziraphale was staring at him, and a soft smile was on his face. The streetlights illuminated Aziraphale in a way that made Crowley’s heart pound. He was beautiful, and he was sincere. Crowley could tell he meant what he said. And, as much as Crowley hated to admit it, he didn’t think it was a coincidence. Anathema’s premonition, <em>there is a place at his table for you</em>. Aziraphale bringing up a hymn with that very name. There was something between them. Whatever it was, there was hope. Aziraphale liked him despite their faith differences. The intensity of that revelation was like a punch to the gut.</p><p>The car was quiet until they reached Aziraphale’s apartment. Crowley just didn’t know what to say. He was tongue-tied.</p><p>Aziraphale broke the silence. “What I am trying to say, Crowley, is that my care for you will not change. No matter how many questions you ask. No matter when you challenge me to explain myself at a dinner with a congregant and his partner. You will always be my friend. I do not want or expect you to change. Even if you want to deny it to yourself, deep down you are a good person. I see God in you. You are truly a light in a cloudy world, Crowley. Translate what I’ve said into whatever you need it to be. The point stands all the same.”</p><p>“‘M not a good person, more of a bastard, really. But thanks, angel. Good to know your friendship isn’t a plot to pour holy water on my head…So, Friday?” Crowley asked.</p><p>“Yes, Friday. Do you have plans for us or shall I make them this time?”</p><p>Crowley smiled. “Got tickets and a reservation to a nice place in Edenwood. I know you can’t get out of Tadfield much or ‘treat yourself.’ So thought I would spoil you a little. Dress nice. Well you always look nice but… Ngk. Yeah, you know what I mean,” he blushed.</p><p>Aziraphale touched Crowley’s shoulder. “Thank you, dear boy. I am truly thankful for you pushing me to have fun now and again. Life has been much more fun with you in it. Let me know what I owe you for the ticket, Crowley. Have a good night, and please let me know when you get home, as always.”</p><p>Aziraphale got out of the car and waved goodbye to Crowley as he drove off. Crowley would never admit it, but he cried with joy on the way home. Aziraphale <em>cared </em>about him. There was room for him after all.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Aziraphale stepped into his apartment, he gently banged his head against the door. He felt waves of embarrassment and shame wash over him. The pain was so intense it was almost unbearable. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He clenched his hands into fists.</p><p>“Aziraphale, <em>what </em>were you thinking? After all you burdened Crowley with the Holy Logos, you just <em>had </em>to talk about a hymn? You are such a fool! You saw the way he reacted to you at dinner tonight! He was upset when he asked you what you believed in! It wasn’t curiosity, he was <em>mad </em>at you! Aziraphale, you know that he’s been hurt by the church and yet you ramble on and on about it. Have you no regard for his feelings and experiences? You are a <em>bad </em>pastor and an even <em>worse</em> friend!”</p><p>He tore himself away from the wall and hurried to his bedroom. His binder was making it impossible to express the heaviness of his shame. He ripped off his clothing and binder in a manner unlike himself; normally he folded his clothing before putting it in the hamper. This time he threw it across the room into a crumpled heap. Aziraphale put on his cozy robe and crawled into bed.</p><p>He sobbed into his pillow. “Aziraphale, you don’t deserve Crowley’s friendship. And what were you trying to tell him with your musings about interfaith love? Do you <em>really </em>think someone like Crowley could care about you that way? No one has since Christopher, and no one ever will. Why can’t you accept that, you imbecile! Why would you have the nerve to think that someone as beautiful and brilliant as Crowley would want you? Aziraphale, you’re a <em>pastor</em>. No queer person would <em>ever </em>be stupid enough to settle down with someone like you… A…Traitor!”</p><p>Aziraphale began to scream into his pillow. The memories of LGBTQ+ people who wouldn’t even look at him because he was a minister came flooding back. All the people who saw him as a traitor. Choosing to serve in an institution that caused irreparable damage to the livelihoods of queer people. Suffering and pain that, no matter how hard Aziraphale tried to help, would never be healed. But Aziraphale could never leave the church. He couldn’t go against God’s call to serve in ministry. It was just the reality of his life, and Aziraphale accepted the pain and isolation that at times came with it.</p><p>He accepted that there was no way he was going to be able to sleep that night. He was consumed by shame. Aziraphale powered up his laptop and began to type an email to Crowley. He tried to apologize; tell him he’d be a better friend in the future. He tried to tell Crowley that he was sorry about bringing up hymns and relationships. But every time, Aziraphale deleted what he’d written.</p><p>He realized that he couldn’t burden Crowley with his feelings anymore. He had already told Crowley too much and put too much pressure on him. His face burned when he thought about Crowley having to hold him as he sobbed. He felt disgust as he remembered leaving tears and snot all over Crowley’s shirt. If anyone deserved comfort, it was Crowley. Aziraphale was supposed to be the caregiver, the one who held space for others and loved them through any and every form of suffering. That wasn’t Crowley’s job. After all he’d been through, he didn’t need someone like Aziraphale pouring his soul out to him.</p><p>“Crowley, I promise you that I will do better. I will be better. For your wellbeing, I will keep this to myself. I want to keep you safe. Keep myself safe. Keep us safe, so that you will not walk away from my friendship. God, please help me stop being selfish. Let me show him the care he has been denied. And help me put my sole trust in You,” Aziraphale prayed quietly. He hoped it wasn’t too late to salvage what he felt he’d destroyed.</p><p>In the middle of his prayer, Aziraphale heard the familiar ping of an email notification. When he opened his eyes and saw who it was, he burst into tears all over again. He didn’t need this right now.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>On Wednesday, Crowley saw Aziraphale come into the coffee shop. He looked more tired than usual. He was aware Aziraphale had trouble sleeping, but he’d never seen him look so…Droopy. Aziraphale’s shoulders sagged and he didn’t have the usual perk to his walk. He was still smiling as he always did, but Crowley saw right through it. Did pastors always have to “grin and bear it” like that? Crowley had never thought about it before. He knew how much Aziraphale did to care for people. But did Aziraphale have anyone in his life to offer the same? Crowley may not be a Christian and would never understand Aziraphale’s devotion to an institution he deemed a hereditary enemy to the queer community. But he felt protective of Aziraphale. Crowley wanted to wrap Aziraphale in his arms again just like Saturday night. He wanted hold him and soothe him so he could get some rest. Aziraphale was the only person—the only pastor—worth giving a shit about. And he wanted to give Aziraphale everything he had to give.</p><p>“Oi, angel!” Crowley snapped his fingers to get Aziraphale’s attention.</p><p>Aziraphale’s forced smile faded and turned into a soft, genuine one. It was weak and did little to mask his sorry state. But Crowley felt a pang of pride. <em>He </em>did that. <em>He </em>made Aziraphale smile for real!</p><p>He hurried over to Crowley and sat down with him. “Crowley, it is so nice to see you today. It has been a rather…Difficult week. Always a joy to see your face. How are you, dear boy?”</p><p>“‘M fine. Day’s better now that you’re in it. But you don’t look s’good. What’s up?”</p><p>Aziraphale looked down at his hands. He twiddled his thumbs. “Oh, just the usual difficulties sleeping. I will be quite alright. I assure you everything is just tickety-boo other than that.”</p><p>Crowley narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “I don’t believe you. Aziraphale, you can cut the bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.” He reached over the table and put his hand on top of Aziraphale’s to get him to stop fidgeting.</p><p>Aziraphale sighed and met his gaze. He was misty-eyed. “Several things, but the most frustrating is Bishop Gabriel.”</p><p>“No surprise there. He’s such a prick. What’d that bastard say this time?” Crowley asked.</p><p>“I received an email early Monday morning. I shouldn’t have opened it on my Sabbath. I usually am so careful with my boundaries on my days off… But of course I would violate it to appease Bishop Gabriel.” Aziraphale’s shoulders drooped even more than they had when he came into the coffee shop. “He gave me a backhanded compliment about creating a MyBook page. He said it was of elementary quality but was a good start. Then he spent several paragraphs degrading the prayerful reflections and sermons that I put up. They are filled with too much love and tenderness, he said. Bishop Gabriel said I am not sharing enough about the systematic theology of the church and that I need to educate them. Christology, pneumatology, soteriology, eschatology… Such things. But Crowley, my theology is more pastoral. That is simply not how I write or preach! What am I supposed to do?”</p><p>Crowley looked confused. “Slow down, angel. Need a few definitions first. I know what Christology and eschatology are. What’s pneumatology, soteriology, and pastoral theology? Need your wisdom, thesaurus rex.”</p><p>The nickname drew a little laugh out of Aziraphale. “Pneumatology is the study of the Holy Spirit. Soteriology is the study of salvation. And what I mean by pastoral theology is how I can apply scripture and stories to people’s lives. I hope to comfort them, help them connect with the Bible today, and see hope and beauty in the world even amidst suffering. If there is not love and care in my words and preaching, then I believe it is useless.”</p><p>“Gotcha. So you say you don’t know what to do but you do. Clear as day, angel. Use your words and tell me.”</p><p>“To ignore Bishop Gabriel and continue to preach and teach as God has led me. Oh Crowley, what if he tries to remove me again? I can’t bear the thought of being ripped away from my flock if I disobey him…” Crowley handed Aziraphale a napkin so he could dry his eyes.</p><p>Crowley felt a twinge of anger.“Aziraphale, your sheep love you. Saw that with my own two eyes on Saturday. I’ve seen it for months now every time you’re here and your people come to talk to you. Got a feeling they’d fight like hell to keep you. Also… Don’t forget our little evidence of Bishop Gabriel’s hypocrisy,” Crowley grinned and waved his phone in the air. “Got it saved on my computer and backed up in my drive. Just be yourself angel, keep doin’ what you’re doin’. He can fuck right off.”</p><p>Aziraphale wiped the rest of the tears away from his eyes. “Thank you for talking me down from the rafters, my dear. Talking to you always helps, and I appreciate it very much.”</p><p>“Remember I told you to call or text me anytime you’re feeling like shite. We can go off together somewhere for an evening. You ‘n me, anywhere you like. Meant it when I said it. Think you know me well enough by now that I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t want to.”</p><p>“I know, Crowley, and your care is ever so appreciated. Our plans on Friday will be exactly what I need. Thinking of it has already helped me get through these challenging days. Now I would like to know how <em>you’re </em>doing. You have a bubbly energy about you today that is positively radiating!” Aziraphale beamed.</p><p>Crowley blushed. “‘S not. My energy’s mysterious, seductive… Maybe a little spooky.”</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Anyway, things are good. Work’s same old same old. Love it even when I complain. Filling up our database with updates on the plants. Bessie is doing well, as always. Had to use the Crowley Method on the Venda Cycad for almost an hour yesterday. ‘S a rare plant from South Africa if you didn’t know. It’s been a real shit lately. Isn’t growing as fast as it should so I had to put the fear of Someone into it. Finally seems to understand that if it doesn’t behave it’ll regret it. Obviously not going to hurt it ‘cause it’s rare and I don’t want it to die, but yeah. I’ve got common plants I use to intimidate them if they really act up.”</p><p>“Could I see your Venda Cycad sometime?”</p><p>Crowley nodded. “‘Course. Beez is going on vacation in a few weeks, I’ll bring you with me to work on one of your days off when they’re gone.”</p><p>“I look forward to it, dear boy! I ever so enjoyed my time with sweet Bessie on Saturday. She is a delight and I cannot wait to see the rest of your hard work. Now, I know something else has happened this week because I can sense it. Did you get some good news, or is it something else? I must know!”</p><p>“Do I need to be honest?”</p><p>“I told you what has occurred this week and why I look so tired, now I would like you do to the same. Honesty is a good policy…Most of the time.” Aziraphale had omitted the important details of why he wasn’t sleeping well. Crowley didn’t need to know that Aziraphale was ashamed of his oversharing.</p><p>“‘S you. You’re the reason I’m happy. Had an epic weekend hanging out with you. Up there as one of the best. Never thought a pastor could be a good friend… Proving me wrong, angel. Blah blah blah embedded theology and all that, y’know. Just glad to have you ‘round. Really looking forward to Fri—hey, that kid you were talking to on Halloween just came in. Looks like they’re looking for you.” Aziraphale turned around and made eye contact with Beau.</p><p>“Oh yes, I believe they are. I have to excuse myself, but thank you, Crowley. I feel the same about our time together. See you at 6 on Friday?”</p><p>“You bet. Now go herd that sheep!”</p><p>Crowley watched as Aziraphale walked toward the young person. He couldn’t help but savor the sight of Aziraphale’s massive thighs, large waist, and impressive backside. It brought back the memory of holding Aziraphale in his arms. His heft and softness felt like a weighted blanket. Crowley felt heat pool between his legs. Embarrassing given the tight red sweaterdress he was wearing. He quickly thought of Beez and Gabriel snogging to keep the thoughts away. Crowley put in his earbuds and played some Queen to help keep himself distracted. He kept the volume low so he could eavesdrop on Aziraphale’s conversation.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, did you mean it when you said that I could come and talk to you after school?” Beau asked.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “Of course, Beau. Let’s order a drink and we can sit down and talk. Please get whatever beverage you’d like; their hot cocoa is positively delicious. And I’m awfully glad to see you. I’ve been holding you in prayer every day.”</p><p>Beau grinned. “Thank you, Pastor Fell. That means a lot.” They went up to the counter and Aziraphale took his usual seat.</p><p>Beau sat across from Aziraphale, mug of cocoa in hand. They looked sadder than the last time Aziraphale saw them. He felt his heart break at the sight. It reminded him of how painful his coming out journey was and all he’d lost. Aziraphale pushed those feelings to the back of his mind, as he always did, so that he could focus on the person in need. He would address his own feelings later... Possibly.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, I read that psalm you told me about a lot. It makes me feel a lot better. But things are worse at church now,” they took a drink of cocoa and stared down at the marshmallows floating on top. Aziraphale wished Beau would look at him.</p><p>“Beau, what happened at church?”</p><p>Aziraphale noticed a tear drop into Beau’s drink. “Reverend Augustine preached a sermon about me. He stared at me the whole time. He talked about Adam and Eve and that there are only two genders. That anyone who thinks they’re different than how they were born is filled with the devil. When he preaches he yells. His face was so red, Pastor Fell. He was really angry with me. And my parents were nodding the whole time. When he did the altar call for sinners to change their ways my parents pushed me up there… Is me being nonbinary the devil, Pastor Fell?”</p><p>“Beau, can you look at me?” Beau raised their head and looked at Aziraphale. There was a warmth, a deep knowing in Aziraphale’s eyes that soothed Beau.</p><p>“Beau, people like us are made in the image of God. God is male, female, neither, everything at the same time. The devil has nothing to do with who we are as LGBT people. There is never, and has never, been anything sinful about us. When we live our lives as our true selves, the people God made us to be, with are beautiful. We are whole. And God is with us every step of the way. Even if people like Reverend Augustine do not understand us, God does. She made us the way we are. Another beloved part of Her heavenly creation.”</p><p>Beau took another sip of cocoa. “Really? So you don’t think that he’s right? About my gender and the way he’s telling me I’m wrong?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “No, Beau. Reverend Augustine is wrong. I want to share with you something Jesus said. This is something that has helped me over the years to look at my actions. In Matthew 7:15-20, Jesus talks about false prophets and how to look at what people do and say. Jesus says for us to <em>watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves.</em><em> By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them. </em></p><p>“Beau, you are a good tree. By being true to who you are and coming out, you are bearing good fruit. I know it is incredibly hard right now, but being out and learning about who you are at your age is a wonderful thing. You will continue to grow, and the fruit you bear with your authenticity will help others. There will be other people who see you living your truth, and it will give them the strength to come out. They will know they are not alone. They will see that just like you, God loves them and is proud of them. Your very life is a testament to God’s gift of who we are and the goodness that comes when we listen to Her.</p><p>“On the other hand, Reverend Augustine is a false prophet. He is mean and not living the Gospel. It is wrong to stand at the pulpit and condemn and shame people. His behavior and how he is treating you is bad fruit. Nothing good will come from his meanness. If anyone has allowed the devil into their heart, Beau, it is him. Reverend Augustine has shown that he is a bad tree by how he treats you and what he says to you. I know that you are stuck with him for now, though I will be praying that your parents have a change of heart and leave that church. But every time you look at him, I want you to imagine him as a tree. When he speaks and when he acts, imagine that each thing is a rotten piece of fruit. Everything he says, throw it in the bin. And whenever you look at yourself in the mirror, Beau, imagine yourself as a beautiful true that is filled with whatever fruit you like best. Because who you are bears good fruit, and God is pleased with you.”</p><p>Beau smiled so wide that Aziraphale swore he could see all their teeth. “By me being me, I’m sharing good fruit with others like us? That is so cool, Pastor Fell! I’m going t—” Beau’s smile suddenly vanished, replaced by a look of dread.</p><p>A tall, ruddy faced man stormed over to their table. His neck strained against his clerical shirt; Aziraphale could see the veins in his neck bulging out. He knew immediately that this was the infamous Reverend Augustine. He could only imagine how high his blood pressure was. Aziraphale wondered if someday the man would die at the pulpit. Part of him wished God gave him the ability to smite people; he certainly would do it in a heartbeat. Nothing but poisonous energy oozed from the false prophet.</p><p>“Miss Olivia, you know it is time for Bible study! Your parents told me you’d probably be here with that tranny faggot pastor. Found your business card and showed it to me, Miss Fell. Heard about your church, your kind… Perverting an innocent child like Olivia and putting the devil’s ideas in her head!” Reverend Augustine spat and thumped his King James Bible.</p><p>Aziraphale straightened himself up and stared into his eyes. “That is Pastor Fell to you, Reverend. And this is Beau, I haven’t the slightest clue who you are talking about. Clearly you must be mistaken on who you are speaking to. If you would like my business card to speak more about matters such as gender, you are more than welcome to contact me. Until then, I am in the middle of a pastoral care visit. Off you get,” Aziraphale made a shooing motion towards Reverend Augustine. He shot the reverend his rarely shown bastard grin. Beau giggled.</p><p>Reverend Augustine lost it. “Miss Fell, you are a sinner in the eyes of the Lord. Listen to the word of God! <em>Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind</em>. You are leading this beloved daughter of Christ astray. You are a heathen, possessed by the devil! Get away from this child, you tranny faggot, and fall before the Word of God! Repent, you vile creature!”</p><p>Before Aziraphale could respond, Crowley was out of his chair and standing between the reverend and Aziraphale and Beau. He was wearing his highest stilettos that day and towered over Reverend Augustine. Crowley was dressed as femme as possible that day. He could tell that the reverend was disgusted by looking at him.</p><p>“You want to call a fellow pastor slurs. Misgender a kid who knows who they are. You better pick on someone your own size. Talk to me. I’m the tranny faggot you’re looking for,” Crowley hissed.</p><p>Reverend Augustine looked into Crowley’s sunglasses and raised his voice. “<em>Even as Sodom and Gomorrha, and the cities about them in like manner, giving themselves over to fornication, and going after strange flesh, are set forth for an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire.</em> You have defiled your flesh, he-she! You will burn in hellfire for your sins against the Lord! You are a disgusting, filthy sight in my eyes and in God’s! Get out of my face, you demon!”</p><p>Crowley grinned. “Oh, you want to thump me with your precious book, preacher boy? Here’s a passage for you that you’ve conveniently forgotten.” Crowley ripped the Bible from the reverend’s hand and turned to Romans 2:1-3 and read aloud. “<em>Therefore thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art that judgest: for wherein thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself; for thou that judgest doest the same things.</em> <em>But we are sure that the judgment of God is according to truth against them which commit such things. And thinkest thou this, O man, that judgest them which do</em> <em>such things, and doest the same, that thou shalt escape the judgment of God?</em></p><p>“Is that not enough for you? Here’s one from Jesus.” Crowley licked his finger, sure to cover it with as much spit as he could. He turned to Matthew 7:1-5: <em>Judge not, that ye be not judged.</em> <em>For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the</em> <em>beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.</em></p><p>“So tell me, preacher boy, seems to me that judging is worse than being queer. Jesus says jack shit about us. Paul and the others aren’t God. You believe Jesus is God, don’tcha? Well then put Jesus before all those goddamn letters. Because Jesus cares more about you being a bloody judgmental tosser than us being trans, nonbinary or gay. So until you get your Bible right, why don’t you just fuck right along and mind your own business. Pastor Fell, a REAL minister, is tending to his sheep.”</p><p>Reverend Augustine took his Bible back and looked at Crowley, Aziraphale, and Beau. “You’re all going to Hell! Each and every one of you sodomites! Prepare yourself for the eternal flames of Hell!” He turned around and left in a huff.</p><p>“Don’t let the door hitcha where the Lord splitcha, preacher boy!” Crowley called out.</p><p>Beau looked up at Crowley in awe. Aziraphale’s face was flush with arousal. No one had <em>ever </em>stood up for him before, and it was, embarrassingly enough, the hottest thing Aziraphale had experienced in his life. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, hoping Crowley wouldn’t notice.</p><p>“Who are you?” Beau asked timidly.</p><p>Aziraphale focused his attention on Beau, hoping that would help his current predicament. “Oh, Beau! This is my dear friend Crowley. He is one of the kindest people you will ever meet.”</p><p>Crowley turned around and rolled his eyes. “‘M not kind. What’s your name, kid? Pronouns?” Crowley stuck his hand out. Beau stared at it for a moment before shaking it.</p><p>“I’m Beau. I use they/them pronouns. What’re your pronouns?”</p><p>“I usually use he/him. But I’m genderfluid and I don’t give a shite what you use. You know my name and that’s all I really care about. Now you listen, Beau. That guy, whoever the fuck he is, is a wanker. He’s a piss poor excuse for a Christian. He’s an asshole. You may have to go to his church but he’s not your pastor. This guy right here,” Crowley pointed to Aziraphale, “is your pastor now. And you ever need to talk to someone about being nonbinary, shoot me an email. Here’s my business card.” Crowley pulled his wallet from his purse, took out a business card, and handed it to Beau.</p><p>“Until Friday, Pastor Fell.” Crowley walked back to his seat, exaggerating the swing of his hips for Aziraphale’s benefit. He sensed Aziraphale’s desire and couldn’t help but play into it. No matter how many years went by, Crowley would always be the Serpent of Eden.</p><p>“He’s cool, Pastor Fell! Crowley really showed him how bad of a tree he is and how bad his fruit is, didn’t he?” Beau beamed.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “Yes he did, Beau. Yes he did indeed.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Aziraphale got home, he went straight to his bedroom. He removed all of his clothes, this time taking care to fold them all up properly. He took a nitrile glove and a bottle of lubricant from the nightstand drawer and got into bed. Ever since Christopher, Aziraphale wasn’t able to touch himself without some barrier between him and his body. He put a small amount of lube on his gloved right hand—aging and hormone replacement therapy made him drier than he once was—and touched himself.</p><p>He replayed in his head Crowley’s protective stance. The way he used his body as a barrier between him and a bigot. He fantasized about what it would be like if only he and Crowley were left in the coffee shop after that event. He pictured Crowley in front of him, looking down at him hungrily. Aziraphale would lift up his sweaterdress, pull down his panties, and ask Crowley for a condom. He’d fish one out of his purse, and Aziraphale would put it on him. Aziraphale came as he imagined taking Crowley into his mouth. He had to bite his ungloved hand to keep from screaming with the intensity of his orgasm.</p><p>When the post-orgasm high wore off, Aziraphale felt guilt welling up inside him. Friends didn’t masturbate to fantasies of their friends protecting them, did they? Aziraphale sighed, pulled off the glove and tossed it into the trashcan next to his bed.</p><p>He grabbed his smartphone and sent Crowley a message.</p><p>
  <em>Dear boy, thank you for what you did today. Beau and I greatly appreciated you stepping into what could have become a dangerous situation. And the way you used the Bible against him was most admirable indeed! I have never had anyone defend me in all of my years of ministry. Thank you for everything, Crowley. I am blessed beyond measure to call you my friend. -Angel</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley heard his phone buzz after a good wank. Unlike Aziraphale, Crowley felt no guilt or shame in getting off to thoughts of his thick angel riding him in his king-sized bed. Seeing the look on Aziraphale’s face, the way he squirmed in his seat, his dilated pupils…How could Crowley <em>not </em>need to get off? He didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to have Aziraphale in his bed, but a genderfluid being could dream, couldn’t they?</p><p>He went into the bathroom and washed his hands before picking up his phone. Aziraphale’s message warmed his heart.</p><p><em>Angel, glad I was there. Know you would’ve taken care of yourself but seeing you being treated that way when you were with Beau just made me see red. You’re trying to help a kid who needs support and neither of you deserve that shit. Hope that bastard doesn’t come ‘round and bug you again. If he does let me know. I’ll take care of it </em> <em>😉. See you Friday, and don’t forget to dress in your Sunday best. And no, not your pastor’s robes or whatever you call them. Blazer ‘n tie. Night, angel. -C</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aziraphale is reciting scripture from the New International Version (NIV)</p><p>All other scripture references are from the King James Version (KJV)</p><p>Reverend Augustine is using two of the "clobber verses" in his queerphobic attack on Aziraphale, Beau, and Crowley:</p><p>1 Corinthians 6:9<br/>Jude 6-7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I commissioned Oniria_Creation on Twitter for fanart of Aziraphale and Crowley in their formal wear. Check it out, it's AMAZING!</p><p>https://twitter.com/Oniria_Creation/status/1333862031003443202?s=19</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale looked at himself in the mirror on his bedroom door. He hadn’t had the opportunity to wear his three-piece suit in a while and was glad to have the chance. It was a soft beige classic fit that complemented his rotund shape perfectly. He wore a light blue dress shirt underneath and completed the look with a tartan bowtie.</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale liked his appearance for the most part. He liked being fat. His weight suited him well and he had no desire to change that part of himself. It hurt his feelings when Gabriel and others made fun of him, but it wasn’t that Aziraphale had low self-esteem about his weight. It was the cruelty. Mocking the softness of his heart and body. Aziraphale reminded himself that his exterior matched the interior of who he was. Loving, soft, warm, and inviting. And at the same time, there was a strength and sturdiness to it that could not be ignored. Without the blend of soft and firm, Aziraphale never would’ve persisted in his Call to ministry.</p><p class="chapter-1">He adjusted his bowtie and sighed. Aziraphale didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was nervous about seeing Crowley tonight. He couldn’t believe that someone as beautiful, cunning, and brave as Crowley would want to spend so much time with him. Besides Christopher, Aziraphale had never met someone so drop dead gorgeous. How could someone like Crowley possibly see anything in him? Aziraphale was plain, average, and a Christian pastor for God’s sake! He was Crowley’s opposite in many ways, ones that he believed were a deal-breaker for Crowley.</p><p class="chapter-1">“Aziraphale, remember what we talked about Sunday. Cease your incessant chatter about the Bible, your vocation, and hymns. If you want Crowley to stay in your life, it’s the only way. He has hurt enough in his life, and you do not need to cause him further pain. If you have any doubt, remember how he talked to you Sunday night at dinner and how little he said in the car! Do you want to lose the only friend you’ve had in many years? Heavens knows if you continue on the path you are going with your oversharing, he’ll be gone before you kn—”</p><p class="chapter-1">His negative self-coaching was ended abruptly by the sound of the Bentley’s horn. Aziraphale glanced at the clock; Crowley was right on time. He took one last look at himself in the mirror before rushing downstairs.</p><p class="chapter-1">When he saw Crowley, his jaw dropped. Crowley was always beautiful to behold, but tonight he took Aziraphale’s breath away. He was wearing an elegant long sleeve black dress. It was floor length with a slit in the leg, showing off Crowley’s serpent tattoo. He wore silver stilettos, his nails painted to match them. He wore a dark shade of lipstick and black cat-eye sunglasses with silver accents. His hair was parted to the side and cascaded down in perfect waves. He watched as Crowley turned to open the passenger door and was shocked that the dress was backless.</p><p class="chapter-1">“Looking good, angel. Must admit that you’ve got great taste in suits. The tartan bowtie though… Not too sure about that. Think I’ll have to help you out next time you go bowtie shopping,” Crowley smirked.</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale snapped out of his daze. “Tartan is stylish! I shouldn’t have to remind you of that. Perhaps I’ll have to take <em>you </em>shopping, my dear. You would look quite fetching in a tartan skirt, if you would give it a chance,” he sassed.</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley chuckled. “Yeah yeah. I’ll let ya know if I want to travel back to the 50s and be a perfect house spouse. Now get in, don’t want to be late.”</p><p class="chapter-1">He helped Aziraphale into the car then took his place in the driver’s seat. Before Crowley started the car, he looked at his friend from the corner of his eye. The soft colors of Aziraphale’s wardrobe looked angelic on him. They emphasized his lovely frame in the best way possible. But it was more than just Aziraphale’s appearance that made his mouth water. Crowley thought back to what he overheard Aziraphale tell Beau about good fruit. Aziraphale was, by far, the best tree in existence. And despite his place in the church, Aziraphale bore the sweetest, ripest fruit with his actions, words, and appearance. Far more tempting and satisfying than the forbidden fruit of the Garden of Eden.</p><p class="chapter-1">“So where are we going that you requested I dress in my best attire?” Aziraphale asked as he tightened his grip on the handle. Crowley’s driving on the expressway was, quite frankly, a little terrifying.</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley swerved into the left lane to avoid hitting a slow car in front of him. Aziraphale gasped.</p><p class="chapter-1">“First we’re going to The Swan Theatre. Know how much you like Hamlet. Top actresses and actors are performing tonight only. Wanted to make sure we didn’t miss it.”</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale blushed. “C-Crowley, you don’t like the serious ones…I hope you did not go out of your way on my account.”</p><p class="chapter-1">“None of that, angel. If I didn’t want to you know I wouldn’t by now. And besides you deserve something good. Planned to take you for a while now anyway, but the way you talked to that Beau kid on Wednesday deserves positive reinforcement. Probably don’t get enough of that, do you.”</p><p class="chapter-1">“Well, it is quite true that pastors often do not know they impact they have on their congregants unless a few of them feel led to provide affirmation. But Beau needed someone who understood and accepted them. I was merely providing the support they needed. However, that is not the point here. Crowley, I am deeply touched by this. I’ve actually never been able to go to plays other than free or inexpensive ones at the local theatre. There has never been a time when I could afford a luxury such as this…Thank you,” a tear of joy rolled down Aziraphale’s cheek.</p><p class="chapter-1">“Don’t need to thank me, Aziraphale. We’re friends. Never been good with words or any of that, but I like being able to take you places you don’t normally get to go. ‘Sides, you’re really the only person worth my time and effort. You don’t suck like all the other people I’m forced to deal with every day,” Crowley shrugged.</p><p class="chapter-1">Once they arrived at the Swan Theatre, Aziraphale got out of the Bentley immediately after Crowley put it in park. He walked over to the driver’s side and opened the door. He held his hand out to Crowley.</p><p class="chapter-1">“I believe it’s my turn to hold the door, Crowley.”</p><p class="chapter-1">“Well, I won’t object. A dapper man such as yourself should always hold the door for a beautiful being like me. You have good manners, Daddy Aziraphale.” Crowley grabbed his silver clutch purse and took Aziraphale’s hand.</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale sighed. “You’re never going to stop with that, are you?”</p><p class="chapter-1">“Nope. S’who you are to me. Now why don’t you escort me inside? Having a man like you on my arm will make everyone awfully jealous, y’know.”</p><p class="chapter-1">“I should think it’s the other way around, dear boy,” Aziraphale winked. He acted confident on the outside, but his inner voice was screaming. <em>Don’t say things like that, you idiot! You’re going to scare him away!</em></p><p class="chapter-1">“Ngk. You bastard,” Crowley chuckled. The sauntering vaguely downward was turning into a freefall. Crowley didn’t know whether to be thrilled or startled by his feelings.</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley and Aziraphale walked into the theatre arm in arm. Aziraphale wondered if it was because it helped Crowley walk while wearing absurdly tall stilettos. He’d never seen ones that high. Aziraphale noticed that all eyes were on them. It made him terribly anxious. Were people judging him? Did they wonder why such a glamorous dresser like Crowley would want anything to do with someone as plain as him? Were they potentially at risk for violence because of Crowley's visible queerness? Aziraphale felt sick at the thought. He wished he could make himself invisible. Or maybe run into the bathroom and hide until the play began.</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley, however, felt the complete opposite. He loved touching Aziraphale, feeling the warmth radiating from his arm. They’d held hands—platonically—multiple times. Crowley had held Aziraphale once. He cherished the tender touch Aziraphale seemed to openly give. So why not enjoy having Aziraphale as eye candy on his arm at a play, too? Crowley felt a sense of pride being with him. He felt the envy, desire, and curiosity of the people all around them. His time on the streets and as an exotic dancer helped him tune those emotions. He loved every minute of it.</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley wished the moment would last forever, but soon they were in their respective seats. Aziraphale was thankful that he could be just another person again. But he had to admit to himself that he was a little sad when Crowley was no longer touching him.</p><p class="chapter-1">“How did you manage to get front row seats, Crowley? I’ve never been so close to the stage in my life,” Aziraphale said, hoping to put his nerves back in order.</p><p class="chapter-1">“Don’t you worry about that, angel. Just enjoy it. We’re here and that’s all that matters.”</p><p class="chapter-1">And enjoy it he did.</p><p class="chapter-1"> </p><p class="chapter-1">***</p><p class="chapter-1"> </p><p class="chapter-1">When the play was over, Crowley put his arm in Aziraphale’s again. He allowed Crowley to lead and looked down at the floor the entire time. He couldn’t bear to see the judgment in people’s eyes anymore. It didn’t help that he felt a bit mortified about his flirtatious comment earlier in the evening. Crowley, on the other hand, made eye contact with the people who stared. He gave them a mischievous grin that intrigued some, terrified others.</p><p class="chapter-1">Once they got to the car, Crowley noticed Aziraphale’s downward gaze and little beads of sweat on his forehead. He looked paler than normal. Aziraphale quickly got into the car and shut the door. He didn’t look at Crowley.</p><p class="chapter-1">“What’s wrong, angel? D’you need to go home? You look sick,” Crowley fretted.</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale glanced at Crowley and offered a fake smile. “Oh no, dear boy. I’m tip top, no need to worry.”</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley stared at him. “You’re not. Tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p class="chapter-1">“I assure you that it’s nothing. I’m merely overcome with emotion from the play. The talent was incredible, and there is a lot that I’m processing about their performances. Hamlet always puts me deep in thought. Now I’m feeling quite peckish; where are we dining tonight?” Aziraphale changed the subject.</p><p class="chapter-1">“Not sure how Hamlet could make you sweaty and sick looking, but if you don’t wanna talk about it I won’t press… ‘N you’ll just have to wait and see, it’s a surprise,” Crowley responded. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into Aziraphale, but he couldn’t help but feel concerned.</p><p class="chapter-1">When they pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot, Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He’d heard of the place before, but never dreamed of ever being able to dine there. Leonardo’s was the most expensive Italian restaurant in the region. It was world renown. His suit probably was worth pennies compared to having a meal there! How could Crowley possibly afford it? How could Aziraphale possibly split the bill like he’d hoped?</p><p class="chapter-1">“C-Crowley, I believe you must have made a wrong turn somewhere. Do you know where we are?”</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “‘Course I do. Got a good sense or direction, don’t get lost much.”</p><p class="chapter-1">A look of concern crossed Crowley’s face. Aziraphale felt his heart sink.</p><p class="chapter-1">“‘F you aren’t in the mood for Italian we can go somewhere else. Anywhere you want to go, s’not a problem.”</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale touched Crowley’s hand reassuringly. “No, no, that’s not it. I have…Never been to a place of such caliber before, and I’m afraid I do not think I will be able to split the bill. I do not want to ever take advantage of your kindness…And I worry that it may feel like I am doing that to you,” he answered honestly.</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley waved his free hand in dismissal. “Wouldn’t do this if I thought you were taking advantage of me. Just enjoy this, angel. ‘F you’re worried about keeping things even, why don’t we just head back to yours after dinner and have a nightcap?”</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale was shocked by Crowley’s suggestion. After what happened last week, he <em>still </em>wanted to spend time at his apartment again? It threw him for a loop. Maybe he hadn’t overshared after all. Maybe Crowley actually enjoyed his company. Maybe Crowley didn’t even mind too much that he was a pastor. Maybe everything would be okay.</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale blushed. “I am most amenable to that, dear boy. Do you have your overnight bag with you?”</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley took his hand from Aziraphale’s knee and patted a large bag in the backseat. “Sure do. Always keep it. Actually added some more stuff to it this time. Now c’mon, let’s slither on in. Got a table waiting for us.”</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale wiggled in his seat. The feelings of anxiety and doubt were replaced by hope and excitement.</p><p class="chapter-1">They ordered the most expensive wine Leonardo’s had to offer, a variety of appetizers, and a lovely pasta entrée to share. Aziraphale had never tasted anything so heavenly in his life. Crowley felt arousal welling inside of him as Aziraphale moaned obscenely with each bite. He’d be tucking those noises away to use for masturbatory fodder later.</p><p class="chapter-1">“So, Crowley, I’ve been rather curious about your career and education. It is quite impressive what you’ve done over the years. Pharmaceutical work, testing, book writing, and now caring for special plants in need of an expert’s touch. I would love to hear all about it,” Aziraphale asked after dabbing his mouth with a napkin. This was safe territory. No religion, no controversy. Just a simple question.</p><p class="chapter-1">“Went to college in ’86. Actually pretty amazing how I even was able to go to college. Never thought I’d be able to, y’know, working a pole and some… Other stuff. Thought all my dreams were long dead when I lost my housing. The three transwomen I lived with all died from AIDS, and I didn’t know where to turn. Madame Tracy caught me sleeping in the dressing room and made me tell her what was going on. Tracy took me in. Asked me what I wanted to do with my life. First person that ever asked me that, t’be real. She said she saw something in me ‘n wanted to help. Told her I wanted to go to college. So Tracy taught me how to be a dominatrix. She had a sex dungeon in her house for her clients, and soon I had clients too. Still danced at the club, but I didn’t need to bang for extra tips anymore. Could whip people, chain ‘em up, you name it. Made me way more money than selling myself ever did. Last time I fucked for money was ’85. Don’t miss it at all.”</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Oh my…I do not mean that as judgment, please do not misunderstand me. I mean I have never knowingly met someone who has been a dominatrix before. I have never delved into the, ah, ‘kink’ world, though I believe there is nothing wrong with it as long as all parties involved consent and are of age… Sorry, dear boy, probably should not dwell on that thought, please continue,” he said apologetically.</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley took a sip of wine and smiled. “S’not something I would do for fun. ‘F I had my way in the sack I’d keep the St. Peter’s cross and floggers out of it.” Crowley noticed that Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. He had a feeling that Aziraphale would be more on the vanilla side of things…Perhaps a little naïve too. Crowley figured it they ever got to that point, became more than friends, it was better to reassure him in a roundabout way now than later.</p><p class="chapter-1">“So anyway, with both jobs I was able to get my undergrad degree. Saved up enough money to go to the school of my choice. Went to Raphael College, pretty good place. Had nice internship opportunities.”</p><p class="chapter-1">“A pretty good school? Crowley, the entrance exams are some of the most challenging in the United States! I knew you were brilliant, dear boy, but that is simply astounding!” Aziraphale looked proud. Crowley felt a wave of warmth wash over him.</p><p class="chapter-1">“Guess so. When I got there I was torn between astronomy and botany. Always loved the stars ‘n always loved plants. But my mischief made the decision for me. Me being a shit bit me in the ass, but it helped me figure out what I liked better,” he chuckled.</p><p class="chapter-1">“May I ask what happened? If you are uncomfortable, disregard my question and continue.”</p><p class="chapter-1">“It happened so long ago, angel, I don’t care anymore. Got a question first. You ever wonder why I wear sunglasses all the time?”</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale nodded. “I must admit I have been rather curious, but I did not feel that it was my place to inquire as to why.”</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley smiled. “One thing I like about you, angel, is that you never asked. Anyway in my sophomore year I took a class where we went outdoors to identify plants. People in my classes never liked me because I was an ass. Pulled pranks on people a lot so needless to say no one wanted to be my partner. So I went off on my own in a forested area. Came across this huge plant. Looked like a super-sized Queen Anne’s Lace. Figured it was harmless. So what did I do? Touched it, broke off a piece of it to get a better look at it. Got some sap on my arm and hands but didn’t think much of it. Spent some time with it for a while, then went back on the trail and found my class. Wiped both my eyes on my arm ‘cause they felt kind of itchy.</p><p class="chapter-1">“We were in and out of the forest and a sunny trail all day. After a while I was in a lot of pain. My skin and my eyes were killing me. The burning was intense. My professor noticed that I was having a reaction to something and asked what I’d be up to when the group lost me. Told her about the big Queen Anne’s Lace I messed with and she tried to be calm but she was real nervous. Our field time ended then and there and she took me to the hospital. Turns out the plant was a Giant Hogweed, an invasive species that is, well, not good to touch. ‘S a result, my eyes are permanently sensitive to light and my prescription’s pretty high. Was lucky I didn’t lose my vision entirely. Though that would’ve been alright. Would’ve made it just fine ‘cause being blind is just something to adapt to,” Crowley said.</p><p class="chapter-1">“Quite right. In the future, is there anything that I can do to make things better in my apartment for when you visit? The last thing I’d want is for you to feel uncomfortable in my home.”</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley shook his head. “Nah. Low light’s good but you don’t need to change anything, angel. Sunglasses help fine and I don’t mind wearing them. Plus they’re prescription so I kind of need ‘em.”</p><p class="chapter-1">“You don’t have any prescription glasses that aren’t sunglasses?”</p><p class="chapter-1">“I do but I keep ‘em at home. My cottage is the only place I know the lights will be low enough for me. No reason to bring ‘em with me when there’s no guarantee my eyes can handle the lighting somewhere,” he answered.</p><p class="chapter-1">“Ah, makes sense. But I am glad you were able to adapt despite the difficult situation. I could only imagine how much the sap hurt!” Aziraphale replied.</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley rubbed his arm as he remembered the event. “Yeah, it was pure Hell. Let’s say I became a lot more cautious after that. And knowing that a plant was capable of doing that just made me want to know more. I became obsessed with plants after that. They’ve been my favorite thing since then. Glad that Tracy gave me a chance. Doubt I would’ve gone to school and gotten a great job without her.”</p><p class="chapter-1">Aziraphale smiled. “I’m glad she did too, Crowley. You deserved that chance, and you used her support so wisely. You’ve made a wonderful career and a wonderful life for yourself. You should be proud, dear boy,” he reached across the table and took Crowley’s hand.</p><p class="chapter-1">Crowley interlaced their fingers. Aziraphale blushed but allowed it. “Yeah, I am. Got my degree in ’90 and was hired full time at my internship site. Was so great to leave sex work behind for good, angel. Kept me alive and kept me fed, but I was ready to move on. Got my master’s degree in botany in ’93. Work paid for it, which was nice. They saw my potential and even though they thought I was a shit person, I was good at my job. Got my Ph.D. in 2000, and that’s when I started writing books. May not look educated, Aziraphale, but I am.”</p><p class="chapter-1">“I never doubted it, Crowley. Even if you didn’t have even a high school degree you would be just as intelligent as you are now. In a different way, perhaps, but intelligent all the same. I admire you, my dear. More than I can express,” Aziraphale looked at Crowley in adoration.</p><p class="chapter-1">It was Crowley’s turn to blush. “Ngk. Guess I should say thank you,” he looked away and downed his wine in one gulp.</p><p class="chapter-1"> </p><p class="chapter-1">***</p><p class="chapter-1">
  
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">They arrived at Aziraphale’s apartment around midnight. They’d stayed at the restaurant far longer than they planned. Crowley talked all about his favorite experiments, his master’s and Ph.D. theses, and gushed about the plants he loved most. Aziraphale loved the way Crowley lit up when he talked about this part of his life. It was also clearly a safe topic. It calmed his nerves.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Mind if I take a quick shower before we get to drinkin’, Aziraphale? Need to wash out this hairspray and take my makeup off,” Crowley asked, overnight bag in hand.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Of course, my apartment is your apartment when you visit. There are freshly laundered towels on the counter that I have yet to put away, so choose any one you’d like.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">As Crowley showered, Aziraphale changed into his night clothes. It was the same as he’d worn the last time his friend stayed over. Aziraphale was a creature of habit and didn’t change things up very often.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale poured two glasses of his “best” wine and picked up a book to read. Half an hour later Crowley stepped out of the bathroom. He was wearing a black satin nightgown that ended at his knees. He noticed Crowley was carrying some cotton balls, a bottle of nail polish, and what appeared to be a bottle of polish remover.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Don’t want the silver anymore. Miss my usual black polish,” Crowley explained. He sat down on the floor next to Aziraphale, put the polish aside, and soaked the cotton ball in the polish remover. He was about to take the polish off his left thumb when Aziraphale stopped him.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Crowley, would you be comfortable with me removing your nail polish and painting them for you? I quite enjoy manicuring my own nails, and I would like to ‘pamper you,’ so to speak,” Aziraphale asked with some hesitance.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“I won’t say no to a little pampering.” Crowley handed Aziraphale the cotton ball and scooted closer to the couch. He held out his hands and Aziraphale got to work. “So, angel, got a question for you.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Mm?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“‘F you don’t want answer ‘s fine. But I was wondering when did you come out as trans? I know Christopher knew, ‘course. When did you decide to be out about it though?” Crowley asked.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“I didn’t come out as a transgender man until 1998, but I dressed in masculine clothes at the end of the 80s. I cut my hair short and never wore a skirt again. People always thought I was a butch lesbian, though occasionally people would call me ‘sir.’ I certainly loved those moments, but they didn’t happen often. Truth be told I may have come out sooner if I had friends, but I was quite reserved and shy. I kept to myself. I went to work and went straight home. After what happened to Christopher, I simply was incapable of letting anyone into my life. I suppose that has changed with you, for which I am grateful,” Aziraphale said sweetly as he worked on removing the polish from Crowley’s right hand.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Glad you invited me in, angel. Been nice to have you as a friend. What helped you come out then, if you didn’t have anyone ‘round?” </span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale hesitated. This was getting into religious territory. He was afraid to continue his story.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">It was as if Crowley read his mind. “Church helped you, didn’t it, angel?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale nodded ‘yes’ but said nothing.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“S’okay if you talk about it. Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. You’ve been religious your whole life. Woulda been surprised if church didn’t have something to do with it. Never going to get how religion helped you be yourself but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to know about it,” Crowley said reassuringly.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Are you sure, Crowley? I feel as though I talk about religion an awful lot around you, and I do not want to push you away. I would be quite sad if my vocation affected our friendship. Both of your hands are devoid of polish now. Come sit on the couch and put your feet on my lap. Let’s get the polish off your piggies too,” Aziraphale patted the cushion next to him.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Crowley did as Aziraphale asked. He soaked another cotton ball in remover and handed it to Aziraphale. “First of all, they are <em>toes</em>. They are <em>not</em> piggies. Mine have never been to the market, eaten roast beef, or cried all the way home. Second, why do you think you’ll push me away?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale gently tickled Crowley’s toes, eliciting a giggle from his friend. “No matter what you say, Crowley, they will always be your piggies to me.” He ignored the second part of Crowley’s question and got to work removing the polish.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Crowley took a drink of his wine to allow for a pause. He wasn’t letting Aziraphale get off that easy. “You didn’t answer my question. Why do you think you’ll push me away?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Well… It’s just that I remember how upset you were on Sunday night when we had dessert with Anathema and Newt. The way you looked at me and asked the question about my beliefs about people in interfaith relationships. I could tell that I must have pushed a button for you, somehow, and I’m remorseful that my religious talk made you feel that way,” Aziraphale admitted.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“You thought I was mad at you?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“You weren’t? Crowley, did you <em>hear </em>the way your question came out of your mouth? If you were truly a serpent there would have been venom in it.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Crowley looked at Aziraphale apologetically. “Angel, ‘m sorry it came out that way. I want you to talk about church stuff ‘n your beliefs. If I wasn’t interested I wouldn’t ask you questions. I like picking your brain about things because I respect you. S’nice to talk to a pastor who actually is a good person with some likable bastard mixed in…But I guess I’ve got some fears of my own, too.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“What are you afraid of, dear boy?” Aziraphale finished his task and set the cotton ball on the end table. He looked into Crowley’s eyes and gently stroked his legs. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Crowley relaxed into Aziraphale’s tender touch. “Guess I’m afraid that because I’m not a Christian and don’t like religion that eventually you’ll get sick of me. Text me ‘n say that we aren’t compatible as friends ‘cause I can’t fully be a part of your life as a pastor. Not going to any worship services, pancake breakfasts or whatever you do for fundraisers, not going to attend a Bible study…‘N maybe one day I’ll ask the wrong question and you’ll just leave…” he wiped a tear away. How did a question about coming out turn into <em>this</em>? He hated being this vulnerable.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Oh, dear boy. I have no desire to leave, and I cannot imagine ever getting sick of you. Your curiosity and questioning are two of your best attributes. I could not care less if you ever set foot in a church again. I meant what I said to you Sunday, Crowley. I promise that I meant every single word. I don’t want you to be anyone but you, because who you are is a precious gift that can never be replaced. Now that I have you in my life, I could not imagine you not being in it. Crowley, you are the friend I always needed but never had until now,” Aziraphale said in a soft, tender voice. He squeezed Crowley’s knee affectionately.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Feel the same as you, angel. ‘M not going to leave ‘cause we don’t see things the same. ‘N I don’t want you to change either. Don’t hide yourself from me, Aziraphale, please. I want to know your story. Church is the last place I’d imagine finding acceptance but ‘s not the case for you. I want you to tell me. ‘N I want you to paint my <em>toes</em>, angel.” Crowley wiggled his tongue at Aziraphale to lighten the mood and handed him the nail polish.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale rolled his eyes and smiled. “Thanks for the reassurance, Crowley. I’m so thankful to have you here with me tonight, and every other time we enjoy each other’s company…Well, it was actually when I found the Beloved Disciples that I was able to come out as transgender. I had been looking for a church home. I had been working as a hospice chaplain since I lost my pastorate and found I desperately needed a church community again. I was a part of other churches and attended a wide variety, but none of them fit me. Every person at the churches I went to looked at me like I was a freak. As a result I would sit in the back and leave as soon as it was all over. I didn’t even take Holy Communion. And, Crowley, that was devastating for me back then.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Surprised you didn’t starve to death…‘Cause I know you believe in transubstantiation and all that. Must’ve really hurt,” Crowley said sympathetically.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“My soul felt starved, and there were many days where I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep going on. All of my love and care was going into my hospice chaplaincy, and I had no one else. No church family, no friends, my blood relatives shunned me…I trusted that Jesus was with me, but I often hung onto that by a tiny thread. It never snapped, for which I am grateful. But one day in 1995, I saw a church sign on an old storefront. It was the Beloved Disciples, and their sign had a pink triangle on it. It being in an old shop downtown was rather strange, but when I saw the triangle I understood that they could not afford a proper church building.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“I resolved to go that Sunday. As soon as I walked in, I saw other queer people. I was immediately accepted by them, and I took Holy Communion. The love in that room was so palpable that I could not help but weep. As I got to know people at the church, I found out that there were transgender men and women there. Three years later I came out during our joys and sorrows time at the church. Everyone was so proud of me. Everyone hugged me and said they saw me as who I was. The cisgender people at the church took a while to get used to using masculine pronouns, but they did. </span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“One person in the church helped me learn how to speak in a deeper voice, and another showed me safe ways to bind. This was quite helpful, as I did not start hormone replacement therapy until I began this pastorate. Tadfield, shockingly enough, has a few transgender friendly doctors. The tips I learned from my church acquaintances helped me ‘pass’ most of the time until I could get the hormones I needed. I must tell you, Crowley, that I hate that phrase ‘passing’ ever so much.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“I do too, angel. Why the fuck does it even matter if we fit this bloody culture’s expectations of what we are supposed to be? Binary is bullshit. Should just take people at their word and trust that they know for themselves who they are.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“My thoughts exactly, Crowley… And it looks like it’s time for your fingernails. But before I begin there, take a look and tell me if I have done an acceptable job.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Crowley leaned in to get a good look at his toenails. They were perfect. Better than any nail salon Crowley had ever been to. He could get used to this.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Star treatment, Aziraphale. You’re a natural,” Crowley wiggled his toes in appreciation.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“Why thank you, dear boy. Perhaps we can do this again sometime?”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“I’d love that. And angel, thanks for sharing your story. Dunno how you managed to find those people, but ‘m glad you did. Never would’ve met you otherwise, y’know. Coming to Tadfield and everything,” Crowley blushed.</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">Aziraphale smiled warmly. “I know you do not believe as I do, so please translate this however you see fit. But I believe that God brought you into my life. She knew I needed a friend like you. You are an answer to a prayer, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p class="chapter-1">
  <span class="text">“If I thought prayers were ever answered I ‘spose I’d say the same. Now angel, my fingernails are tired of being naked. They need a pansy’s touch.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is angst central.</p><p>Thank you to everyone who is supporting and encouraging me! Your kudos and comments mean the world to me. I read the comments often, especially on days I'm having a rough time. Thank you for your love &lt;3 .</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale woke up at eight in the morning on the couch. Crowley was still in the bedroom. He hoped that Crowley was comfortable and sleeping soundly. The couch was not the greatest place to sleep—his bed wasn’t, either—but with Crowley’s presence in his apartment Aziraphale was getting a good night’s rest. Aziraphale hadn’t slept well since Christopher’s passing; losing him and the traumatic experiences that followed deeply affected him. He tossed and turned, woke up constantly throughout the night, and suffered from terrible nightmares. But having Crowley there made him feel calm, safe, and <em>happy</em>. Aziraphale had long forgotten how it felt to be genuinely happy. Crowley was filling the hole in Aziraphale’s heart with joy and true friendship.</p><p>When he went to the bathroom to shower, Aziraphale was glad the tipsy him of last night put a fresh set of clothing on the counter. There was no way he was going to disturb Crowley as he slept just to get some everyday wear. Aziraphale showered and put on a cream-colored argyle sweater, brown slacks, and matching argyle socks. Again, he thanked his tipsy self for having enough sense to put together a matching outfit.</p><p>The café a few doors down was open, so Aziraphale went out to get them a little something for breakfast. After the lovely “date” Crowley took him on last night, Aziraphale wanted to treat him in return. Aziraphale thought fondly of their night as he waited in line. He couldn’t believe Crowley had gone to all effort to make it so special. He wished he could return Crowley’s kindness with something of equal caliber, but there was no way he could afford something so lavish. Aziraphale hoped a pleasant breakfast would show his appreciation.</p><p>The scent of freshly brewed coffee and food woke Crowley from his sleep. He felt stiff again—he really needed to buy Aziraphale a new mattress—but he was content. As nice as his cottage was, Crowley would much rather be with Aziraphale than all alone at his place. Crowley wondered if he’d be interested in staying over at his cottage sometime soon. He could whip them up a fancy dinner, watch a movie, maybe cuddle… Crowley was beginning to think there was a good possibility that their friendship could move in that direction. They were becoming more affectionate the more they spent time together. For goodness sake, Aziraphale painted his <em>toenails</em>! Who wants to touch someone’s feet?! Crowley changed into a pair of leggings and a tight tank top. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of Aziraphale’s sweaters was folded neatly on the dresser. It was pale blue. Crowley picked it up and looked it over; it was the softest fabric he’d ever felt, and it was a size XXL. Perfect. He decided to take a risk and wear it. If it bothered Aziraphale he’d take it off. But if Aziraphale liked it… Crowley took one look in the mirror, clicked his tongue and made finger guns at himself. He loved what he saw in the mirror and was confident Aziraphale would feel the same.</p><p>Aziraphale was waiting at the kitchen table. He’d cut them each a portion of spinach quiche and piled their plates high with hash browns and fresh cut fruit. His nose was buried in a Bible, and he was taking some notes. Aziraphale always took time to put his thoughts together in more depth on Saturday mornings. He’d been working with the text throughout the week, but Saturday mornings always proved to be the best time for him to compile his final ideas.</p><p>“Morning, angel. Smells amazing out here,” Crowley said as he sauntered to the coffee pot.</p><p>“Good morning, de—” Aziraphale was unable to finish his sentence. He took in the sight of Crowley wearing his house sweater. He felt butterflies in his stomach and his heart pound in his chest. Crowley was wearing <em>his </em>clothes. He appeared as thought he was swimming in it. And Aziraphale couldn’t help but think Crowley had never looked so beautiful before.</p><p>Crowley poured himself a cup of coffee. He could feel Aziraphale’s eyes fixed on him. Crowley smiled smugly to himself; he’d gotten the exact reaction he’d hoped for. “Hope it’s okay that I’m wearing your clothes. Thin and get cold sometimes, y’know.”</p><p>“I-it’s tickety-boo, Crowley!” Aziraphale’s voice cracked. He blushed in both embarrassment and arousal.</p><p>“Good. May be keeping this awhile. S’nice. Good taste in fabric. Now what’s for breakfast?”</p><p>Crowley sat down across from Aziraphale and took a sip of coffee. He waited patiently for Aziraphale to collect himself and speak. Crowley thought Aziraphale was awfully cute when he got flustered. He considered leaning across the table and kissing him silly, but he knew better than to make a move like that. He needed to let Aziraphale lead.</p><p>Aziraphale put his Bible and notes next to him on the table and stared at them for a moment. He wasn’t quite ready to meet Crowley’s gaze. “W-well, I thought it would be quite nice to share a lovely meal together. I picked it up from that little café a short walk away. Please, dig in before it gets cold.”</p><p>“Thanks for thinking of me, angel. What’re you working on? Saw you buried in that Bible of yours,” Crowley asked before taking a bite of quiche. It was the best he’d ever tasted.</p><p>“Oh, yes! Saturdays are when I write my sermons. I was prayerfully reading the text and creating an outline so that the process is easier in the early afternoon,” Aziraphale responded.</p><p>Crowley frowned slightly. “D’you need me to leave after breakfast so you can get to work? Don’t want to interrupt your workday. Sorry I forgot about it ‘til now.”</p><p>“Oh, no, you don’t have to leave unless you have other things you must do today. I would quite enjoy your company today, should you wish to stay. I’m afraid I will be rather boring for a few hours. I am usually finished with my sermons by the late afternoon or early evening, so I will be a more enjoyable companion then,” Aziraphale replied. He was happy to see a smile return to Crowley’s face.</p><p>“Can entertain myself when you’re writing. Got a smartphone after all. Can spend some time trolling, reading up on plants…Thinking about making a few fake profiles on MyBook and spamming that preacher boy’s churches’ page. What’s the name of it?”</p><p>“The Grapevine Church, dear boy. As you saw the other day, Reverend Augustine is…Quite unpleasant.”</p><p>Crowley stabbed a grape with his fork. “He’s a queerphobic twat s’what he is. Y’know, that’s actually an insult to vaginas. I like the word twat. Preacher boy’s a pile of dog shite rubbed on the sidewalk.”</p><p>Aziraphale cringed a little at Crowley’s crude language but agreed with his assessment of the reverend. “I should probably discourage you from doing such a thing, but I cannot find a good reason to do so. That church is filled with foul fiends…They are the real demons, as far as I am concerned. I am still quite shaken about what happened to Beau. I worry about them every single day. I hope that I will see them again.”</p><p>“Hope you see Beau again too, angel. But the least I can do is make the ratings go down and I can tell everyone how much of a prick that guy is.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “You have already done more for Beau and I than you could possibly know. The way that you put yourself between us and him was…I dare say like a knight in shining armor.”</p><p>It was Crowley’s turn to blush. “Black knight, ‘s me. Couldn’t let that bastard talk to you like that. When I saw it I couldn’t take it. There you were helping that kid see that they’re a good tree who has a lot to offer and then the person that’s supposed to be their pastor attacks you both…When he misgendered you and deadnamed Beau like that… Angel, if I could’ve beat him to a bloody pulp I would’ve,” Crowley gritted his teeth and clenched his fist.</p><p>Aziraphale reached over and caressed Crowley’s hand. “I know you would have, dear boy. But I am quite glad that it didn’t escalate to such a level. You are so brave, Crowley. If anything, you are the best tree in my world.”</p><p>Crowley relaxed into Aziraphale’s touch and soothing affirmations. “Can easily say the same thing ‘bout you, angel.”</p><p>For the rest of breakfast, they ate in silence. It was a comfortable silence. Nothing else needed to be said. Both Aziraphale and Crowley could feel something shift between them. It was a delicate thing that needed time. Neither of them was ready to admit it, but it was there all the same.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale was putting the finishing touches on his sermon when Crowley took the open Bible off the coffee table. He was surprised when he saw the scripture Aziraphale was working with.</p><p>“Wisdom of Solomon? Which verses? And aren’t you Objectants all against the Apocrypha?”</p><p>Crowley looked at the page carefully. A memory he’d long tried to forget flashed in his mind. He remembered the “pastor” of his youth humiliating him in front of the congregation for three hours. All because Crowley was caught reading an “unauthorized” version of the Bible and reading from the Apocrypha. Two punishable offenses. His ears rang for days from the sheer volume of the “pastor’s” shouts. Crowley shivered and unconsciously gripped the Bible so tight that his knuckles turned white.</p><p>Aziraphale moved his chair away from the desk so he could look at Crowley. He was so excited to answer Crowley’s questions that he didn’t notice Crowley’s body language. “Oh! Well, I am preaching from Wisdom 6:12-16:</p><p> </p><p><em>Wisdom is radiant and unfading,</em> <em><br/>and she is easily discerned by those who love her,<br/>and is found by those who seek her.<br/>She hastens to make herself known to those who desire her.<br/>One who rises early to seek her will have no difficulty,<br/>for she will be found sitting at the gate.<br/>To fix one’s thought on her is perfect understanding,<br/>and one who is vigilant on her account will soon be free from care,<br/>because she goes about seeking those worthy of her,<br/>and she graciously appears to them in their paths,<br/>and meets them in every thought.</em></p><p> </p><p>“It is one of my favorite passages in scripture, Crowley. When I saw it in this week’s lectionary I was so excited!” Aziraphale wiggled.</p><p>“Now the Beloved Disciples are Objectants, right?” Crowley loosened his grip on the Bible.</p><p>“Yes, we consider ourselves to be. And you are certainly right, Crowley. The majority of us do not believe that the Apocrypha is scripture and should not be preached from or acknowledged…Bishop Gabriel is a firm believer that if we have a Bible with the Apocrypha printed in it that we should rip out that section and burn them in a fire. He thinks it is unacceptable to preach from it,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>“Good thing he doesn’t read all your sermons like the elders in the Holy Logos did then…But you’ve got lots to choose from each week. Why that one?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled, “Well, Crowley, the simple answer is that God led me to choose this passage. The other passages did not speak to me the way this one did. I find that it fits the Beloved Disciples’ theology quite well about Wisdom’s place in our lives. From my vantage point, She is simply the feminine manifestation of the Holy Spirit. The exact same, as far as I am concerned. She’s always with us, beckoning us to take Her hand and be guided towards a more faithful life.”</p><p>Crowley pondered that for a moment. “So you think this Wisdom lady just waits ‘round all day at your conscience’s gate or whatever and hopes you’ll let her in? Maybe s’why most Christians are so bloody awful. Got their gates chained up with so many doctrinal locks on ‘em and they’re too brainwashed to know where the keys are to let her in. Just a bunch of dumb sheep following the wrong shepherd, like people that go to preacher boy’s church…” he grumbled.</p><p>Aziraphale felt a wave of defensiveness rise in him. “My dear, I would not say that most Christians are awful. There are many of us who are decent people that are trying to make the church better. We do our very best to meet Wisdom at our heart’s gate and trust her to guide us to where we need to go. She reaches out to us, but we have to meet Her halfway. It is not an easy task, and I will never pretend that I am more aware than others. In fact I-I….”</p><p>Crowley noticed the change in Aziraphale’s demeanor. He looked down, his shoulders sagged, and he fidgeted with his pinkie ring. It was sad to see Aziraphale shift from such enthusiasm to something so downtrodden…Crowley wondered if he was feeling ashamed of whatever he was beginning to talk about.</p><p>“Talk to me, Aziraphale. What were you going to say?” Crowley asked in a tender voice.</p><p>Aziraphale ignored his question. He turned back to his laptop and stared at the screen. “Well Crowley, I must finish this sermon. I should have it completed in precisely a half an hour. Would you be interested in going to the cinema tonight? They are currently showing some older films, and ‘Casablanca’ is playing this evening.”</p><p>Crowley stood up and put his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale couldn’t help but put his hand on Crowley’s. “Angel, please look at me.”</p><p>Aziraphale hesitantly did as Crowley requested. He was fighting back tears.</p><p>“‘M sorry if my bluntness about Christians hurt your feelings. You’re the only good minister I’ve met. I can’t lie to you ‘bout that. I trust you, angel. But I can’t trust the rest of you. Not yet.”</p><p>Aziraphale shook his head. “Yes, I must admit that comment offended me a little. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I know that your feelings about pastors are valid. It is hard for me to hear it and accept it because I’m in this vocation...Crowley, I forgive you. However, that is not what has me…Like this.”</p><p>He was taken aback by Aziraphale’s apology. He didn’t expect to hear something like that come from a pastor’s mouth. He’d been told by his childhood “pastor” that he was unforgivable, a demon, a vile creature. Not to mention the second “pastor” who came…Figuratively and literally. Part of him felt sick. He wanted to be there for Aziraphale, be a support system. But another part of him wanted to get in the Bentley and drive home. Memories he’d suppressed were rearing their ugly head. The pain became near unbearable.</p><p>“My dear, your hand is clammy…Are you okay?” Aziraphale looked at Crowley closely. He was physically present, but there was a far-off look in his eyes. Something was terribly wrong. “Dear boy,” Aziraphale snapped his fingers to get his friend’s attention. “Come back to me. What’s the matter?”</p><p>Without saying a word, Crowley took his hand away from Aziraphale’s. He went back to the couch and pulled the covers up over his head. Aziraphale could hear Crowley holding back sobs. Aziraphale knelt in front of the couch and wrapped his arms around his friend. With Aziraphale’s touch, Crowley broke down. His sobs were so loud that Aziraphale would not be surprised if bookshop patrons could hear them. Aziraphale rubbed Crowley’s back through the blanket.</p><p>The air was heavy with pain; Aziraphale knew well enough from his years of ministry that something triggered Crowley. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but Aziraphale knew it was about clergy. It was becoming clear to Aziraphale that Crowley had some deep wounds that hadn’t yet healed. But given his vocation, would Crowley ever open up and tell him about what happened? He didn’t have high hopes.</p><p>Crowley’s pain triggered Aziraphale’s conflicted feelings about his vocation. He’d known since he was a child that God wanted him to be a minister. Aziraphale hadn’t felt Her in his life as strongly as he once had; but he had no doubt that this is what he was meant to do with his life. And yet, he felt terribly guilty sometimes. He could not leave the church. He could not abandon an institution that had caused his queer siblings so much pain and suffering. Crowley was a prime example of the horrendous damage Christianity had done to them. Aziraphale had been on the receiving end, too. His time as a hospice chaplain was grueling and broke his heart day after day. The people he cared for—mostly AIDS patients—never recovered from the trauma Christians had caused them. They felt safe with Aziraphale, but he could not heal their wounds. He could not fix it. All he could do was love them as they slipped into the silent embrace of death.</p><p>If he could take all of Crowley’s pain into himself, he would. He would gladly take Crowley’s burdens so that he could be free from religious trauma. Aziraphale would give so much to help Crowley. But until Crowley was ready to share, there was nothing he could do except offer comfort.</p><p>After several hours had passed, Crowley began to settle down. His breathing was evening out, and his sobs turned into soft whimpers.</p><p>“Crowley, can I move you into my bedroom? It is much better than the couch. I can hold you, if that would be of any comfort. You don’t need to speak, my dear. If you would like to lay in bed, squeeze my hand once. And if you would like to be held, squeeze my hand twice.”</p><p>Crowley brought his hand out from under the blanket and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand twice. Aziraphale picked up Crowley bridal style, careful not to remove the blanket. He wasn’t sure if Crowley would want to be seen. Aziraphale kept the lights off and gently placed Crowley on the bed. Once his friend was settled, Aziraphale settled in behind him. He spooned Crowley, wrapping his hands gently around his friend’s waist. Crowley untangled his arms from the blanket and put his hands over Aziraphale’s.</p><p>“I’m here, Crowley. You’re safe in my apartment, my bedroom, my bed. Feel everything you must feel. You’re safe in my arms. I will do my best to be a safe person for you. You’re my beloved friend, and I will never leave no matter what,” Aziraphale whispered soothingly in Crowley’s ear. The only response he received was a soft whimper.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley were startled awake by a phone alarm. They were still together, cuddling in Aziraphale’s bed.</p><p>“Good morning, dear boy. How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Feelin’ better, thanks,” Crowley answered, his voice groggy with sleep. He did not look at Aziraphale.</p><p>“I would much prefer to stay here with you this morning, but I must get ready for work. Will you still be here when I return from church?” Aziraphale asked with hope in his voice.</p><p>“‘M gonna go home. S’not you, just need to be alone…Sit with things,” Crowley responded.</p><p>Aziraphale gave him a gentle squeeze and pulled away. He felt disappointed that Crowley didn’t want to stay, but he understood. Aziraphale knew better than anybody the urge to hide away after being so exposed and vulnerable. “Rest until you feel well enough to drive. And please text me when you get home. I want to know you made it safe and sound to your cottage.”</p><p>Crowley nodded. “M’kay.”</p><p>As soon as Aziraphale left for the church, Crowley collected his things. He kept on Aziraphale’s sweater. Being surrounded by Aziraphale’s scent helped him cling to the sense of safety he felt in his friend’s arms. He was feeling raw and exposed, but grateful that he fell apart in front of Aziraphale. Crowley wrote Aziraphale a note before he left. And for the first time in a very long time, Crowley drove the speed limit.</p><p>When Crowley got to his cottage, he threw his bag on the floor and stormed into the plant room. They knew what was coming, and they began to tremble.</p><p>“You’re all pathetic! I’ve told you time and time again that you need to GROW BETTER! Looks like I need to teach you a lesson all over again!” Crowley searched the room for the smallest plant he had. It was the Venus Fly Trap Aziraphale bought for him at the farmer’s market. He picked it up and growled at it. The plant began to shake, its leaves looking as if it was begging for its life. As he stared at it, Crowley knew he was on the verge of a breakdown again. But he had to look tough to intimidate the other plants.</p><p>“Look at your little friend here. Not bothering to grow even a little bit! What a pathetic plant! Now let’s see what happens to plants that fail to do as they’re told…”</p><p>Crowley sauntered out of the room and into the kitchen. He ran the garbage disposal in the sink. But he did not hurt the Venus Fly Trap. He couldn’t bear to destroy what his angel had given him. Crowley carefully put it on the counter far away from the sink. After he ran it for a while, Crowley fetched an identical empty flowerpot and put some dirt in it. He returned to the plant room with the flowerpot, glared at each of his beautiful plants, and dropped it on the ground.</p><p>“THAT WILL BE YOU NEXT IF YOU DON’T SHAPE UP! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!” Crowley yelled at the top of his lungs. The plants appeared to be shaking their leaves up and down in a “yes” motion.</p><p>He rushed into his bedroom and slammed the door. Crowley slid down the door and put his head in his hands. He knew he was going to lose it again, but he didn’t want his plants to hear, lest they believe he’d gone soft. Crowley called out to his electronic assistant.</p><p>“Alejandro, play Queen, full volume.”</p><p>“Okay, playing ‘Crowley’s Kickass Queen Playlist’ now.”</p><p>Queen filled the room, completely covering up his sobs. He only cried harder when he realized which song was playing:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And then I saw Him in the crowd<br/>A lot of people had gathered round Him<br/>The beggars shouted the lepers called Him<br/>The old man said nothing<br/>He just stared about him<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>Crowley curled up into a ball on his cold, wood floor. He tried desperately to focus his thoughts on Aziraphale. Aziraphale was safe, comfortable, <em>good</em>. He would certainly be someone Jesus was proud of. But the memories from his youth overpowered the beautiful image of the man he adored. He remembered Pastor Amnon, the man who screamed at him, shamed him, beat him every time he had a question, read or did something that was against his rules. Crowley remembers the day he Fell, the word the church used when a member was banished forever. Thrown out on the streets of London to fend for himself at age sixteen.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>All going down to see the Lord Jesus<br/>All going down to see the Lord Jesus<br/>All going down</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley remembered the scumbag evangelist Brother Titus. He found Crowley begging for money on the street corner by a hotel. Crowley was seventeen and so desperate for food, attention, and for love of some kind that he followed Brother Titus to his hotel room. He read scripture about love and compassion to Crowley, told Crowley that he was special. Told him that God brought them together, that Crowley would be his helpmate as he “Preached the Truth.” Crowley wanted to desperately to believe that there was a God, that a pastor could show him the love his previous pastor failed to. He remembered Brother Titus whisking him away to the United States. He remembered Brother Titus helping him become a U.S. citizen in exchange for sex and mandatory participation in his church…</p><p> </p><p><em>All going down to see the Lord Jesus</em><br/>All going down to see the Lord Jesus<br/>All going down</p><p> </p><p>Crowley vomited as he remembered the sleazy man’s touch. His cold tongue, sweaty hands, muscular frame. He gagged at the memories of going to church with Brother Titus every day, saying things he didn’t believe so he could survive another day. Crowley hated himself as he thought back on his past. He wondered if Aziraphale would hate him too when the truth came out.</p><p>He didn’t text Aziraphale to let him know he’d gotten home.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale felt relatively confident about his message that morning. More people were showing up to the church now, much to his surprise. There were several brand-new faces, which made him happy. But then he locked eyes with the last person he wanted to see: Bishop Gabriel. He was giving Aziraphale that fake, cruel smile that he always wore. Aziraphale whispered “oh, fuck” to himself. He knew he was going to get a stern reprimand from Gabriel for preaching from the Wisdom of Solomon. But it was too late to turn back now; the message was prepared, and he was not an extemporaneous preacher. Aziraphale took a deep breathe, avoided Gabriel’s gaze, and began to preach.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Throughout our lives, “Wisdom is radiant and unfading.” She never ceases to be, even when we may not feel Her presence. There is not a moment when She is unavailable to us. From the day we are born to the day we die, Wisdom is within and alongside us. It is Her purpose to guide. Help us stay on Her path. When necessary, herd us back when we go astray. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wisdom is an enthusiastic partner in our lives. We are reminded that “she goes about seeking those worthy of her, and she graciously appears to them in their paths, and meets them in every thought.” Every single one of us is worthy. Just as all of us are worthy of the love of God, so we, too, are worthy of Wisdom. The question this verse poses for us is this: are we seeking Wisdom out, too? Our relationship with Her is not a one-way street. Our scripture tells us that “she hastens to make herself known to those who desire her.” Wisdom desires to play a role in our lives. Her hand is always outstretched to us. She wants to lead the way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When we focus our attention on Wisdom, in time we will be more aware of Her. When we embrace Wisdom, love Her, and open our hearts to Her, we have much to gain. Let us remember that She has been with us from the beginning, and Her hand is always outstretched. I pray that each and every one of us will take Wisdom’s hand in ours and lean into Her guidance.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>After the message, Aziraphale looked at the congregation. Everyone except for Bishop Gabriel had their eyes closed and were settling into a time of silence. Gabriel’s violet eyes were locked on his. He was no longer smiling. Aziraphale quickly closed his eyes, but he could still feel the bishop’s icy stare. He was dreading what was to come.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, I figured today would be a good day to visit your church! Let’s sit in your office and talk for a few. I would take you out to lunch but I don’t think you need that,” Bishop Gabriel grabbed Aziraphale by his sleeve and dragged him to his office.</p><p>“What a mess! Aziraphale, I keep telling you that you should open up a library. Maybe it’s time that you retire and start up a bookstore. You might be able to get a job at the store below your apartment. Sure, you might be awkward and probably scare people away, but it’s worth a try.” Gabriel grabbed a stack of books from the couch in Aziraphale’s office and threw them on the floor.</p><p>Aziraphale quickly sat in his office chair and cleared his throat. “It is always a delight to see you, Bishop Gabriel. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”</p><p>“Three things. First, how many people are coming now?”</p><p>“I have not looked at our records this month, but I usually see at least three new faces each Sunday now. Several have come back. I have even been approached by members of our community when I am at the coffee shop. It has been quite nice. MyBook has been working quite nicely,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>“Not enough, but a decent start. Second, you know you aren’t supposed to preach from the Apocrypha. Why did you think that was acceptable? Maybe in another diocese that’s okay, but under Bishop Fucking Gabriel you are <em>not </em>to preach from it. Do you not listen when I speak to you? I’ve told you that time and time again,” Bishop Gabriel growled.</p><p>“But it was in the lectionary, Bishop Gabriel. I felt led by the Spirit to preach from Wisdom. Aren’t we supposed to follow God’s leadings when we prepare and deliver sermons?”</p><p>Bishop Gabriel let out a condescending sigh. “Oh Aziraphale, that’s not how this works. The church has decided what we can and cannot preach on. I have taken all of the facts into consideration and know that we should not be teaching from the Apocrypha. So here’s what we’re going to do, pastor. For the next month, I will be picking what scripture you preach from. You will not be given a choice. Understood?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “Understood, Bishop Gabriel…What is the third thing you wanted to talk to me about?”</p><p>“Ahh, yes. Point three is the main reason I’m here. I heard you were awfully rude to Reverend Augustine from the Grapevine Church. He is a fellow minister in Christ. It is not acceptable for you to yell at him, rip his Bible from his hands and threaten him. I thought you were a Christian and a good example, Aziraphale,” Gabriel tsked.</p><p>“Bishop Gabriel, with all due respect I did no such thing! That was another person at the coffee shop who intervened. I was in the middle of a visit with a young nonbinary child when Reverend Augustine came up to us and began yelling and preaching the clobber verses. I was kind to him and did nothing to provoke him. You will need to talk to the staff and find out who the person was who did what you are accusing me of doing,” Aziraphale answered firmly. He wasn’t going to tell him it was Crowley, but he certainly wasn’t going to accept the blame.</p><p>“Yeah, you’re probably right. You’re too soft and weak to ever stand up for yourself. But still, you did not come to the defense of a fellow pastor. You allowed him to be humiliated in front of the other people consuming the gross matter you call coffee.”</p><p>Aziraphale tried to get a word in, but Gabriel continued.</p><p>“I don’t want to hear one more thing from you, Aziraphale. I don’t care what he said to you or that…thing. Kid. Whatever. We are the Beloved Disciples. We are supposed to show love to our enemies and people who persecute us. And, first and foremost, defend our fellow clergy from the attacks of the unsaved and wicked… You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think a month is enough for you to learn your lesson. I’ll be choosing scripture for you for six weeks. If your missteps continue, it will be extended. Got it?” Gabriel flashed him that fake smile that made Aziraphale sick.</p><p>“Y-yes, Bishop Gabriel.”</p><p>“Great!” Bishop Gabriel clapped his hands together. “Now let’s pray. God, we are glad that you called me to come to Pastor Fell’s church this morning. That you have trusted me to set him back to rights and help him be a real pastor. I ask that you bless the people in this church, that you bless me, and that you bless all the other pastors in our diocese. And I pray that you will get through to Pastor Fell and teach him the importance of loving those who persecute him. In Your name we pray. Amen.”</p><p>“Amen,” Aziraphale mumbled.</p><p>“Take care, Aziraphale. New salad place opened up a block from here. You should go there today. Get a balsamic dressing—it’ll cut the calories.” Bishop Gabriel winked and left the room.</p><p>Aziraphale left the church as soon as he knew Bishop Gabriel would be gone. He burst into tears the moment he got into his apartment. Aziraphale was furious with Gabriel for twisting scripture to defend an abusive, queerphobic pastor who deserved the reaming he got from Crowley. He was angry that Gabriel took away his ability to choose what to preach from. But most of all, he was sad that he could not call Crowley to talk to him about what happened. Crowley needed time for himself, and it would be wrong for Aziraphale to call him up and pour his heart out.</p><p>He continued to cry as he walked to his kitchen. He needed a glass of wine. Aziraphale noticed a note stuck on the fridge:</p><p>
  <em>Angel,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry for last night and taking off this morning. Just remembered some stuff. Not your fault. Y’know how stuff comes up. I’m gonna need a few days by myself. Nothing personal. I’ll call you when I’m back to normal.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Dear Boy</em>
</p><p>Aziraphale crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wisdom of Solomon 6:12-16 comes from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation</p><p>Crowley is listening to "Jesus" by Queen.</p><p>Objectants are this AU's version of Protestants</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the heaviest chapter yet. Crowley talks about his traumatic religious upbringing and it triggers painful memories for Aziraphale as well. It is important to the story, but please proceed with caution. Should you wish to skip this chapter and wait for the next one, it may affect the story some but not enough to make it impossible to follow going forward.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley did not text Aziraphale all week. To Aziraphale’s relief, however, they saw each other at the coffee shop. He was scared that Crowley would stay away from the place they met. He was afraid that his very presence would make things worse. But it did not appear to. Crowley always acknowledged Aziraphale’s presence, though he said nothing. Crowley faced away from Aziraphale so he could not look at him. It hurt his heart not to be able to exchange looks with Crowley, invite him to sit at his table. But he respected Crowley’s need for space.</p><p>So Aziraphale would busy himself with pastoral visits, shove his face in a book when he waited. Watch as people bought Crowley drinks, flirted with him. The brief pangs of jealousy would always be overcome with relief. Crowley always sent them away. At least one thing had not changed.</p><p>Aziraphale patiently waited for Crowley to reconnect with him. It was agony. The days went by slowly. He slept even worse than usual. Aziraphale couldn’t sit on his couch, let alone even look at it. He obsessed over his role in Crowley’s pain. He felt a tremendous amount of guilt for his role in whatever transpired last week. Aziraphale knew that he’d caused it inadvertently, and it broke his heart. He berated himself every single day.</p><p>Sunday after church was the worst day yet. It had been a week now, and Aziraphale was losing hope that Crowley would ever speak to him again. When he got home and changed into more comfortable attire, Aziraphale looked at his reflection. He braced himself against the bathroom counter and stared into his eyes. His face twisted in disgust as he took in his features.</p><p>“You stupid, stupid fool! How many times did I tell you to stop talking about your work? Look what you’ve gone and done! You chased away the only person who has made life worth much of anything! Why get your hopes up that someone like Crowley would want a pathetic, weak man like you! Maybe Christopher didn’t really visit…How could you think that he’d come to you in a dream? How could you think that maybe there was hope for another after him? You imbecile! Just give up now. Crowley’s not coming back! And don’t fool yourself. It’s all your fault. If you would have put your community first above a Calling, maybe Crowley would still be here. Maybe you’d have friends. You wouldn’t have hurt Crowley. But you couldn’t stop being selfish. You only thought about yourself! Aziraphale wailed and put his head in his hands.</p><p>He snapped out of it when he heard a knock on the downstairs door. Aziraphale straightened himself up and looked at himself one more time. He was thankful he hadn’t cried. He could put on his fake smile and go with it. Pretend he was fine. Aziraphale said a quick prayer that his guest wouldn’t be Bishop Gabriel, then headed down the stairs.</p><p>Aziraphale was shocked to see Crowley waiting at the door. He was dressed more masculine today. He was wearing all black: blazer, band tee, skinny jeans, high heel boots. His hair was in a low ponytail. It had been a while since Crowley wore an outfit like that, which surprised him. Crowley was holding a box of pastries from Blue Sky Bakery. There was an apologetic look on his face. It made Aziraphale’s heart ache.</p><p>“Thought you could use something sweet after a busy day at work…S’okay if I come in or d’you just want me to drop ‘em off?”</p><p>Aziraphale’s fake smile turned into a sincere one. “Crowley, I would like nothing more than for you to visit. Please come in.”</p><p>Crowley visibly relaxed and took a deep breath of relief. He was thankful that even after ghosting him for a week that Aziraphale still wanted him around. Truth be told he missed Aziraphale terribly. He didn’t want to stay away from him, but he needed to recover from the previous weekend. It took a lot out of him. Crowley spent much of the week remembering his upbringing. He’d often break out in cold sweats at night, sometimes waking himself up with his screams. Showers couldn’t be long or hot enough. He wished he could take his brain out and scrub all the painful memories away. But Crowley told himself he was feeling better…That he was “over it” enough to be in Aziraphale’s presence again. He desperately wanted to believe it, so he told himself it was the truth.</p><p>Aziraphale led Crowley to the kitchen table and put the pastries on the counter. He made Crowley a cup of coffee and plated them up some sweets. Crowley got one of Aziraphale’s favorites: a cheese and raspberry danish. Aziraphale appreciated that Crowley remembered what he liked best. One of his many lovely qualities.</p><p>They chit-chatted about their weeks for several hours. There was little of substance to it, but it was safe territory. Aziraphale was being as careful as possible. As much as he wanted to discuss last weekend, he knew better. Crowley was not his congregant; he was his dear friend, and it was up to him to bring it up.</p><p>As it neared evening, they migrated from the table to the couch. Crowley suggested they sit somewhere more comfortable. Aziraphale did not want to be anywhere near the couch. He could still hear the agony in Crowley’s sobs. But if that was where Crowley wanted to sit, then Aziraphale would not protest.</p><p>Aziraphale didn’t know it, but Crowley didn’t want to be anywhere near the couch either. Crowley wanted to tell Aziraphale why he fell apart last weekend. For some reason, he felt it was best to discuss it where the incident took place. As hard as it was, Crowley hoped to assure Aziraphale that his absence was not his fault. If he was going to be good friends with a minister—and, maybe, even get the chance to date the angelic man in front of him—Crowley needed to be honest. It was better to rip the band-aid off now. But this was so much more than just honesty. Crowley wanted to prove to himself that he was past this part of his life. He wanted to prove that he was <em>strong</em>, that those memories no longer had power over him. He longed to prove to Aziraphale that he was as brave as he believed him to be. Crowley didn’t want to look weak… Most of all, he didn’t want Aziraphale to give up on him. To think there was no hope for something more meaningful together despite their spiritual differences.</p><p>“Angel, we need to talk.”</p><p>Aziraphale gave Crowley a soft look. “Only if you want to, dear boy.”</p><p>Crowley sighed. “I want to talk about this…Tell you what happened. The blanket thing was from your sermon stuff… You preaching from the Apocrypha triggered me. S’not your fault, of course. But it reminded me of something that’d been scabbed over in my brain. Basically pulled it off and started bleeding in my head.”</p><p>Aziraphale felt as if his heart was being ripped out. A pang of guilt hit him. How could he leave his Bible out and assume that Crowley would be okay with it? He knew Crowley used one to call out Christians online, but Aziraphale should’ve known better than to have his own laying open. He’d never even thought to ask if Crowley had scripture triggers. Crowley’s words simply affirmed Aziraphale’s self-talk. He’d traumatized his friend because he was a pastor.</p><p>He pushed the feelings aside to be present for Crowley. “I promise that I will not subject you to such a thing in the future. Thank you for telling me what happened, and I apologize for putting you in that situation.”</p><p>“S’okay, you didn’t know. And I didn’t even remember ‘til then…”</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley sat in silence for a moment. A heavy weight settled between them. He could tell Crowley was wanting to say something. But Aziraphale was afraid of where the conversation was going to go. He didn’t want Crowley to feel pressured or pushed to relive his past trauma. He wasn’t even sure exactly how much he could take.</p><p>“Crowley, do you want us to change topics? I can tell that what happened last week caused a tremendous amount of pain. I do not wish you to share faster than you are ready for,” Aziraphale asked with concern.</p><p>Crowley stared into Aziraphale’s eyes. He was going to prove himself. He was going to do this.</p><p>“Angel, I want to talk about this…Bein’ with you and talking about theology and all that God stuff has got me thinking. How much can you take, Aziraphale? Tough stuff, my past.”</p><p>Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley’s hand in his. Aziraphale shoved his feelings to the back of his mind before he responded. “If you’re sure you’re ready, then I will put my trust in you. And my dear, you tell me as much or as little as you are comfortable with. I am privileged to hear whatever parts of your story you wish to reveal to me. And please, if it becomes too much, it is okay to change the subject. You do not owe me anything about your life or your story, Crowley.”</p><p>Crowley breathed a sigh of relief and squeezed Aziraphale’s hands. “Thanks. ‘F it gets too much for you, Aziraphale, lemme know. It’s… Been a tough road for me. I’ll tell you, angel, from the time I was nine up ‘til I was sixteen were some of the worst. You ever heard of the Church of Divine Purification?” Crowley asked.</p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Good Lord! The cult with the little schoolhouse? No, Crowley. Please don’t say you were raised in that horrendous so-called religion!”</p><p>“Yup. One and only.”</p><p>“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s hand a little tighter.</p><p>Crowley felt the warmth of Aziraphale’s hand. It kept him grounded in the moment. He continued on. “My dad joined the cult when I was nine. My mum died that year. Went to sleep and just didn’t wake up. Never figured out what happened. Like SIDS but obviously she wasn’t a kid. Dunno, that’s how I’ve always explained it. But we didn’t have any other family, and my dad wasn’t good at making friends. Get my lone wolf attitude from him. Only friend he ever had was mum.</p><p>“I was an accident. My parents didn’t really want me, but they decided to go through with havin’ me anyway. My mum tried, but she was more interested in working and spending time with dad than me. Don’t remember much about her. We never bonded. And when mum died, my dad cared even less. Didn’t say much to me. Kinda acknowledged me when he had to. But it was like I wasn’t even there. Few months after she died he was walking me to school. There were two blokes wearing all gray: suits, ties, undershirts, socks, shoes… Literally nothing but gray. You’ve seem ‘em before, right?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “I used to see them from time to time on my way to school. They preached on the street corner near my home. My mother and grandmother always told me to stay away. But one day when I asked for one of their book so I could learn about them. ‘The Practice of Purification,’ I believe it was called.”</p><p>“Fuck. D’you read it?”</p><p>“Yes I did, Crowley. And it was absolute madness.”</p><p>Crowley was grateful for the affirmation. He pressed on. “So my dad took one and read it. All in one night. This was big, angel. He HATED reading. Wouldn’t even read to me when I asked. But this bloody book… He was hooked. Read it every single night for two weeks. I had to make myself dinner ‘cause he was obsessed. Next thing I knew he was making me read the damn thing after school.</p><p>“It was the craziest shit. My dad and mum never went to church. Mum said God was in my heart and church didn’t matter. Dad never talked about it. But all of a sudden dad was dragging me to the Church of Divine Purification. He started calling himself one of them, a Purificant. He bought our clothes from their seamstress. Everything had to be made by them. So here I was, in this stupid gray suit. Got taken out of public school, had to go to the cult school. Needed the ‘True Teachings’ dad said. Some of it reminds me of that wanker Gabriel’s ‘Great Plan’ rubbish.” His hands started to shake.</p><p>Aziraphale could feel Crowley trembling. He wanted to tell Crowley to end this conversation, but it wasn’t his call. But he could still try. “If you need to stop, Crowley, it’s okay. We can talk about this another time if you need. Please do not push yourself,” Aziraphale said softly.</p><p>Crowley made a dismissive motion. He was <em>fine</em>, dammit. “S’okay, Aziraphale. I’m good. You know what they did at the school, at the church?”</p><p>“No, I only know about what the book said. I never actually talked to any Purificants other than to receive a book.”</p><p>“Looks like I’ll be giving you a crash course. I was there almost all the time. Only time I went home was to sleep, really. Was in school all morning and afternoon, then church all evening. They fed us all throughout the day. Church ladies were good cooks. Lot better than what I could do back then.</p><p>“Only good part of the school was the reading and writing. Learned how to do all that pretty well. Helped me out a lot later on. But the science, math, church doctrine… Fuck, angel. Was really bad. D’you think that I just went along with what they told me?”</p><p>Aziraphale grinned briefly. “Knowing you, absolutely not. You are very much a free thinker. Couldn’t imagine you being persuaded into much.”</p><p>Crowley smirked. “Damn right, angel. All their teachings were a bunch of bullocks. That whole Young Earth Creationism shit. They were the only ones who God cared about. Pastor was the voice of God… Weird thoughts about Jesus too. Thought Jesus was basically a hologram of God.”</p><p>“Oh yes, the Docetism heresy. Was warned about that many a time in my youth and in my seminary education,” Aziraphale responded.</p><p>“Didn’t know there was a term for it. Glad to have an encyclopedia here with me.”</p><p>“My apologies for interrupting, Crowley. Please continue if you wish.”</p><p>Crowley nodded. “S’all good. So the focus was always on God’s punishment. All the verses where Jesus was mad. They actually told us that Jesus’ commandment to be kind and love each other wasn’t really Jesus. Satan wrote the words in there. The only real Truths were the passages talking about punishment, the end of the world, God’s wrath… Was really fucked up, angel.</p><p>“Really influenced the church service. Pastor Amnon was our minister. Literally screamed at us for three hours a day. Said the same thing every time. That we were nasty and dirty. That we needed him and the church to be made ‘pure.’ Couldn’t fuck, couldn’t be a fag, couldn’t drink, couldn’t smoke, couldn’t read anything that they did not approve of. Got caught reading the Apocrypha and in a Bible the church didn’t allow us to read from. ‘S what I remembered last week. So that bastard grabbed me, put me in front of the whole church and screamed at me for three hours. He’d be right in my face then turn to the church ‘n tell ‘em to condemn me. They all did, even my dad…</p><p>“Don’t want to dwell on that. Anyway, about purity stuff…Anything about life that was actually good was off limits. Only way that we could be made pure again was hurting ourselves. There were flogs at the front of the church. He’d do an altar call, and that was our cue to go to the front. We each had a spot and a flog with our name on it. Looking back I think they were ones for kinky play. Just these cheap little things but they still fucking hurt. I’d try to stay in my pew but dad would drag me down the aisle. Amnon called me ‘Crawley’ because he thought I was just a worm. Hated me because I asked questions and resisted. So when it was altar call time, my dad handed me over to him. That cult leader bastard took it upon himself to flog me.</p><p>“Everyone else just flogged themselves with their suits on. It hurt, yeah. But they had some cushion. ‘Crawley’ needed more pain to be pure enough for God. So he made me take the top half of my clothes off. He hit me hard. Eventually he just started hitting me with the handle ‘cause I wouldn’t change. Shoulda seen him, Aziraphale.”</p><p>Aziraphale fought back tears. It brought back to mind all the beatings Aziraphale took on the streets over the years. Aziraphale was feeling his own painful memories flashing through his mind. But he kept pushing them back. He told himself he could handle them later.</p><p>“What a sick, sick man, Crowley.”</p><p>Crowley tried to look cool and composed, but Aziraphale could see right through him. Crowley’s hands were shaking terribly now. They betrayed the collected look on his face.</p><p>“Yeah he was. Sick bastard. My dad was worse, though. These people just scrambled his brains. It just brought out all the hate in him. Once a week, he’d beat me. I’d try to fight back but he was a lot bigger’n me. Always had bruises on my ass and thighs. Kept ‘em hidden from Amnon. Dunno why, ‘cause that prick would’ve loved to see them. But every time dad beat me he’d say it was my fault mum died. ‘Cause I wasn’t pure my presence poisoned her, I guess. If I was a better kid she’d still be here. Sometimes he’d say that he hoped God would punish me ‘cause I was a piss poor Purificant,” Crowley’s lips curled into a snarl at the memory.</p><p>Crowley’s whole body shook. His face was twisted in anger. “I could deal with that, angel. I toughed it out. Didn’t want to end up on the street, y’know. Didn’t have any friends or people outside the church to get help from. Shit fell apart when I was sixteen though. Fell into a thing with the only other boy in my class. Sebastian. He was nice to me and things just happened… But we got caught.”</p><p>“Got caught?” the words slipped out of Aziraphale’s mouth before he could catch them.</p><p>Crowley clenched his hands into fists and looked down. “Got caught kissing in the supply closet. Sebastian never saw anyone look there so he thought we’d be safe. Banishment was the punishment we were facing. Falling, they called it. Thought it was worth the risk at the time. But Amnon found us. He dragged us in front of the altar. Told us to wait there until worship started in half an hour. Soon as it started, Amnon screamed and told everyone what we’d done. Told the congregation to come up and punish us…Want to know what they did to us? In the name of your God? Your Jesus? Can you hear it, angel?” Crowley hissed at Aziraphale. He lifted his head and stared into his friend’s eyes.</p><p>Aziraphale swallowed hard. He knew all too well the violence that came from Christians. He’d been left for dead several times at their hands. He wanted to throw up.</p><p>Crowley gritted his teeth. “Spit in our faces. Beat us. Floggers, fists, feet… Screamed at us, told us we would never be pure again. Amnon wrote “sodomite” on our foreheads. Our parents dragged us out of the church, told us to never return, that we were Fallen. Unforgivable, condemned to Hell. Told us we were demons and closed the doors on us. Lost everything we knew, Aziraphale. Sebastian and I tried to make it on the streets together, but he wasn’t tough enough. Went missing after a month. Never found out what happened to him.”</p><p>Crowley stared at Aziraphale. He’d never seen Crowley look so angry before. His face was red, his mouth was set in a terrifying snarl. Crowley’s nails were digging into the sensitive skin of his palms. Aziraphale thought he saw blood.</p><p>“Oh, Crowley,” was all Aziraphale could say. He couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, and they rolled down his chubby cheeks.</p><p>Crowley noticed Aziraphale’s tears. Seeing them only made him angrier. Crowley no longer saw the man he adored. He only saw the faces of the ones who hurt him. Aziraphale’s face morphed into Amnon, into Brother Titus…Crowley saw red.</p><p>“You don’t GET to cry, Aziraphale. This isn’t your story. You didn’t go through this. What do you have to cry about? Jack shit, s’what.”</p><p>Aziraphale wiped the tears away. “I hate that this happened to you, Crowley. All the suffering at the hands of that cult… A church leader… Your father… My heart aches for you, my dear.”</p><p>“I don’t need your ‘sympathy.’ ‘S people like you who did this to me and Sebastian.”</p><p>“People like me?” Aziraphale gasped.</p><p>Crowley hissed. “Yessss, people like you. Pastorsss. Don’t give a shit about anyone. Think you’re the mouthpiece of God. You think you can be the judge, jury, and executioner. Condemn anyone who doesn’t believe to Hell while you sit back in your fancy robes, high and mighty on a stage. All your lot does is make people hate God and hate themselvesss. You’re the same. Guilty by association. Traitor.”</p><p>Aziraphale knew he should be empathetic. Hold space for Crowley’s pain. But being associated with abusers like Pastor Amnon was too much to handle. He couldn’t push back his own triggered memories anymore. It was as if a dam broke. Aziraphale remembered when he was stripped of his ordination, the misery he saw as a hospice chaplain, the multiple beatings, his blood staining sidewalks, alleyways, and bar floors… But it was beyond that. Crowley’s harsh words exacerbated his guilt and struggles about fighting for a place at the table called church. Sometimes he did feel like a traitor, even though in his heart he knew he wasn’t. But he couldn’t take it anymore.</p><p>“How dare you say that I’m like the man who abused you and made you suffer! I know that you are hurting, that you were traumatized. But I would never tell you that God hates you. I am not a judge. Crowley, I have never once hit someone, caused them harm. God loves you, Crowley. It isn’t God that hurt you, and I didn’t hurt you. One pastor does not represent all of us. I was called to this work to make life better, to help people feel God’s love. I wish to make things better and safer for those now and those who will exist after I have passed away. That man who tortured you was not a real minister. He was an anti-Christ, Crowley. You are worth the world and you were tortured by an evil man. But Crowley, I am not your enemy. I will never be like Pastor Amnon or that church. I swear on my life, Crowley, I would never hurt you on purpose. I ado—”</p><p>Crowley cut him off. “Awful close to being like my enemy…You’ve stayed in an institution that has ruined livesss like ours, Aziraphale! You continue to work for a transphobic prick. You say that God lovesss me, Aziraphale, but if God did none of that would have happened to me. And the truth is, Aziraphale, your work s’all for nothing. Your ‘call’ doesn’t mean anything. Not much has changed. So much for helping people. Just a bunch of brainwashed sheep following a shepherd who stupidly follows the wolves!”</p><p>“I can accept a lot of things, Crowley. I am aware that Christianity has harmed our community. It has traumatized you, and it has traumatized me. I will never pretend that religious institutions are not rife with problems. But I will not accept you speaking to me this way. To tell me that my life’s work is for nothing…That I am leading my flock to a wolf’s den… I have been told that too many times, Crowley. By people who have been hurt, and by my colleagues in ministry. Your pain is no excuse to invalidate all I have sacrificed,” Aziraphale’s voice wavered. He trembled with his attempts to keep his anger from boiling over.</p><p>“What isss there to invalidate? Haven’t done much of anything. Took care of Christopher and been nice to Beau. Did you even do anything in between? Always say nice things to me, but I dunno if you even mean ‘em. Just what all pastorsss say…You even tell the truth or just doing your ‘Christian dutiesss’? Wanna make me like you? Fuck that. And fuck your church, Aziraphale,” Crowley hissed.</p><p>Aziraphale’s face reddened and his eyes narrowed. “You don’t know enough to get to say that, Crowley. You don’t know the years I spent taking care of people with AIDS because no one else would. You don’t know all the suffering I experienced beyond the Holy Logos because I was who I am. Clearly you do not know me at all. Maybe you never really wanted to…To think I would ever hurt you, our people…This has not been an easy road for either of us. I know you’re hurting, but I am not your enemy. And that you think I am… I just…”</p><p>Aziraphale put his head in his hands and began to sob. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out and crushed under Crowley’s heel. Aziraphale felt like a failure. Maybe Crowley was right. Maybe everything he did was for nothing and he never did an ounce of good. He should’ve never said hello to Crowley. All he’d done was cause Crowley pain and trigger tremendous suffering. Aziraphale wished God would smite him so he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again. No one would miss him anyway, as far as he was concerned.</p><p>Crowley grabbed his things and stormed out of the apartment. He left without a word. He slammed the door so hard that Aziraphale’s framed chaplain certificate crashed to the ground. Glass spread everywhere. Aziraphale looked over to see the damage. The broken glass looked exactly how he felt inside.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I will be posting the next chapter tomorrow (Thursday) as I usually do.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter ends on a happy note!</p><p>I can't believe this fic has almost 100 kudos! I thought this would be such a niche thing that not many people would follow it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all who are reading, following, and commenting. You have no idea how excited I am when I read y'all's comments. I adore you all &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley didn’t remember driving home. He didn’t remember putting on Aziraphale’s sweater. He didn’t remember slipping into bed, fixing his eyes on the ceiling. Even wrapped up in the comfort of his friend’s warmth, Crowley felt cold. He was trembling and shivering from the intensity of what transpired between him and Aziraphale.</p><p>It wasn’t until the middle of the night that Crowley’s harsh words came back to haunt him:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>All your lot does is make people hate God and hate themselvesss. You’re the same. Guilty by association. Traitor.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the truth is, Aziraphale, your work s’all for nothing. Your ‘call’ doesn’t mean anything. Not much has changed. So much for helping people. Just a bunch of brainwashed sheep following a shepherd who stupidly follows the wolves!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You even tell the truth or just doing your ‘Christian dutiesss’? Wanna make me like you? Fuck that. And fuck your church, Aziraphale.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Crowley’s heart sank. He threw off his sunglasses and the tears began to flow. He didn’t mean to be so cruel. Crowley didn’t mean the hurtful things he’d said to Aziraphale. Sure, he struggled with Aziraphale’s vocation, but it wasn’t <em>about </em>Aziraphale at all. In his soul he believed that Aziraphale was truly an angel. If there was a God, certainly Aziraphale had been called by Her. Aziraphale was always showing people with his words and actions that they mattered. Crowley saw it in every look he gave his congregants, people on the streets. Crowley felt it when Aziraphale held his hands, looked at him with adoration and unconditional care. Crowley <em>knew </em>it the moment Aziraphale held him when a traumatic memory incapacitated him the weekend prior.</p><p>Aziraphale was<em> never</em> the problem. He wasn’t “guilty by association.” He wasn’t a traitor. Aziraphale was a rebellious and persistent soul. He was <em>brave</em>. Determined, strong, never gave up despite all the obstacles other Christians threw in his path. Aziraphale’s call meant something to so many queer people that Crowley couldn’t even comprehend. He was the one leading his flock to something good, something better. They weren’t going to the wolves; they were journeying towards God. Aziraphale was guiding them to the Light of Christ that his angelic friend believed in with everything he had.</p><p>What made Crowley angry was all the church had done to their community in the name of “God.” The God of their understanding was a cruel God, an evil one. Their beliefs were anti-Christ as far as Crowley was concerned. He was enraged that a cult told him and Sebastian that they had Fallen, that they were demons, cast them out on the streets. His heart still ached at the knowledge that he’d never know what happened to Sebastian. He was furious that a man as incredible, loving, and gentle as Aziraphale was abused, stripped of his ordination, subjected to continuous cruelty by that bastard Bishop Gabriel. That’s what made his blood boil.</p><p>He couldn’t believe he’d accused Aziraphale of the things that he knew his friend was incapable of doing. Crowley trusted Aziraphale with his story, his soul, everything he was…But in his pain he’d hurt the person he cared for the most.  Aziraphale, the most beautiful, vibrant tree that fed Crowley’s spirit with the most nourishing fruit. And he’d gone and smashed the fruit under his foot.</p><p>Crowley knew he couldn’t leave this for a week. He needed to apologize in person as soon as possible. He wanted to resolve this, hash it out with Aziraphale, take full ownership for what he’d said. Impulsive and imaginative as he was, Crowley devised a plan. He rushed out of bed, put on his coat, and sped to the 24-hour grocery store across town. Crowley had no idea if Aziraphale would be receptive, but he had to try.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale spent the morning carefully cleaning up the glass from his chaplain certificate. It had shattered in an obscene number of tiny, sharp pieces. He realized that in the future he should probably invest in a frame that cost a little more than one from Dollar Daisy. Oh well, at least he wasn’t out much.</p><p>After taking care of the glass on the floor, he carefully removed the remaining glass from the frame. Nothing had happened to his certificate, thank goodness. He put the frame and its precious cargo back on the wall. Aziraphale felt compelled to stare at it for a while.</p><p>It brought back the memory of how hard he’d worked to receive it after being stripped of his ordination. Aziraphale knew it would be a good long while before he’d find another denomination to be ordained in or a church to pastor. But being a chaplain would still allow him to live into his Call and help those who needed love and care in their most vulnerable moments. It wasn’t his top choice—he was quite fond of congregational ministry—but it was the best option afforded to him.</p><p>Aziraphale went through a brutal program called Clinical Chaplaincy Education. It was a year long process, and all that was required was a seminary degree. With a small group of other chaplains in training, Aziraphale was put through the ringer. Long nights in a hospital, rotations to different floors, hours of lectures and debates with classmates. He had to write up interactions with patients in full detail—words, body language, feelings—and present them to his classmates and instructor. They’d rip him to shreds, but Aziraphale persisted. He was good at the work and loved every minute of journeying alongside the sick and dying. He had plenty of experience already as a pastor and caring for Christopher. This was merely a means to an end.</p><p>He gently ran his fingers across the certificate. It landed him a job in AIDS hospice in a big, conservative city not too far from Tadfield. Quite frankly, it was a shock that there was a group focused on caring for folks with AIDS. But the numbers were significant in the city. He was the only person who applied for the job, and when he shared his story of caring for his husband throughout his illness, they hired him on the spot. From 1987 up to his ordination in 2000, Aziraphale worked there. Even as other chaplains came on the scene in the mid-90s, Aziraphale still worked long hours to care for people long since abandoned. Aziraphale loved them unconditionally, and he held the ones who had no family or friends as they moved into perfect eternity with God.</p><p>As hard as that time in his life was, Aziraphale didn’t regret it for a moment. It only made him more determined to follow God’s Call for his life. Loving and offering spiritual care for those in need sustained him. It kept him going. He attributed his surviving multiple attacks to the love and memory of all the people he cared for. Without their shared ministry to each other, Aziraphale wouldn’t be here.</p><p>The memories caused a beloved hymn to rise in his heart. Just as those people sustained him, “Here I Am, Lord” kept him going. It reminded him of how hard he’d worked and all he’d done to make Christianity a better faith. His ministry bore good fruit no matter what anyone else said or believed. He softly sang to himself:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I will break their hearts of stone</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Give them hearts for love alone</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I will speak my words to them</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Whom shall I send?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I have heard you calling in the night</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I will go, Lord, if you lead me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I will hold your people in my heart</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>For the first time in a while, he felt God. She knew he needed to remember all he’d done in his decades of ministry. The people he loved who had no one. She spoke to him through the broken frame. The symbolism of throwing out the sharp, jagged words that cut him. From Bishop Gabriel, from all the hateful Christians he’d been up against…Crowley’s hurtful words acting as the catalyst for the glass shattering. She told him to throw all those pieces in the trash where they belonged. To look at his accomplishments and be proud of all the love and good seeds he’d sewn. Truly ineffable how She worked and spoke, but Aziraphale sure did appreciate it.</p><p>At the end of the day, whether Crowley meant what he said or not, Aziraphale knew he was wrong. He was not guilty of wrongdoing in his role in ministry. Aziraphale was helping the queer sheep who had been abandoned, left behind. He was not the people who’d traumatized Crowley. He never could be. He knew in the future—if Crowley still wanted to be a part of his life—that they would have to discuss boundaries and triggers so future arguments wouldn’t escalate to such a degree. If that meant pushing him away, putting a temporary stop to their deep sharing to protect both of their hearts, then so be it. If Crowley still was in this with him, then so was Aziraphale.</p><p>He meant it when he said he wouldn’t leave, abandon him, hate him no matter what happened. Truth be told, both of them had had no one in their lives for a long time. But they had each other. And Aziraphale put his faith in God that they would work through this. Aziraphale even had hope that this horrible event could bring them closer together. But he would wait for Crowley to make the first move to reconcile.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale decided to pay a visit to Anathema’s bookshop in the late afternoon. He thought for a moment about the fact that it was nearing the time that Crowley would get off work. He hoped that Crowley had a good workday despite the painful events of Sunday. Aziraphale said a little prayer for Crowley before he walked into the shop.</p><p>Anathema looked up from her book. She’d been expecting Aziraphale for a while now. Agnes visited her again last night, told her to be expecting a soft man with hair like a halo to walk into her shop. Anathema knew without having to guess that she was talking about Aziraphale. She’d recently told Newt that Aziraphale’s hair reminded her of Christian art with a halo surrounding saints’ heads. Agnes gave her words to share with Aziraphale. It was odd and didn’t make any sense to her, but she was sure they’d mean something to Aziraphale. Agnes was always right, after all.</p><p>She gave him a look that clearly showed she knew he’d be popping in.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “Miss Nutter visited you again, didn’t she?”</p><p>“Mhm. And she’s got a message just for you…But before I tell you, let’s have some tea and catch up,” Anathema winked.</p><p>Anathema fetched them both a cup of tea and they sat in the reading nook in the corner of the store. The chairs were lovely with swirls of cobalt blue and teal. Aziraphale told himself that he needed to visit more often and get out of his apartment. He enjoyed her company, and she would probably enjoy having him in her bookshop.</p><p>“So, I’ve been thinking about you and Crowley. How are things moving along?” Anathema asked. She knew that something was brewing between them after Agnes’ words for Crowley. Anathema could feel the energy between them.</p><p>Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Ah, what do you mean by ‘moving along’? I’m afraid I do not know what you are asking.”</p><p>“You know what I’m asking, Pastor Fell.”</p><p>He blushed. “Ah, w-well, our friendship has been quite lovely up to the past two weeks. Things have been…Rather challenging, Anathema. Given my vocation and his life experiences. Last night was quite unpleasant, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale stared down into his teacup.</p><p>Anathema frowned and nodded. “Newt and I have had some nasty fights in the past too. Both of us had a lot of misinformation about each other’s beliefs. We kind of just went with what our parents said about the ‘other side’ and things we’d read from…Not the greatest resources. Newt was a little better about listening than I was.”</p><p>“How did you two resolve those conflicts? When I see you both together it is abundantly clear to me that you are, as they say, ‘joyous as mussels.’”</p><p>She held back a giggle at Aziraphale’s mangled idiom. This was a serious conversation, and she didn’t want to derail it. “Well, at the beginning we just assumed we already knew what we needed to know about each other’s faith lives. So when we’d start talking we weren’t really listening. We’d watch each other do our spiritual practices and get upset. He thought I was hexing people when I’d brew medicine in the kitchen! I thought he was a Biblical literalist because my family said everyone was these days! Sometimes the fights were pretty bad. I left for a while once until I calmed down.</p><p>“But we’d always come back and talk about it. We figured out we were ignoring the important parts of our lives when we just went with our assumptions. So that’s when we started doing our spiritual practices together. And now we ask each other questions and have time set aside to teach each other. It’s become quite fun, now. We don’t always agree and we still get into debates, but they aren’t really arguments anymore. Before I met Newt, I’ll admit that I wouldn’t have wanted you coming into my home, Pastor Fell. I wouldn’t have seen you as you really are… Just be patient with each other and talk about this,” she answered.</p><p>“Thank you, you’ve given me a lot to ponder. I appreciate your willingness to answer my question,” Aziraphale said appreciatively.</p><p>It was a little after the time Crowley would get off of work that Aziraphale took his leave. It was dinner time, and he was feeling quite peckish.</p><p>Anathema walked Aziraphale to the door of her shop. She whispered in his ear. “Go with the one who wants to take you to the stars.”</p><p>Her words were confusing, but Aziraphale figured in time they’d make sense. As soon as he stepped outside and onto the sidewalk, he saw a familiar black car driving towards the shop. Before he knew it, the Bentley was screeching to a halt on the street directly in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The car was barely stopped before Crowley got out. He was still in Aziraphale’s sweater. His hair was in a messy bun (messy cannot be understated). Aziraphale had never seen Crowley not look put together. He couldn’t help but find Crowley even more attractive, if that was even possible.</p><p>Crowley stayed close to the Bentley. He spoke to Aziraphale fast and frantically. “Angel, I’m sorry! I apologize. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it.”</p><p>Aziraphale was silent. He was still processing the fact that Crowley was here, parked in front of his apartment. He figured it would be a week—maybe more—before he saw Crowley again. It took him a moment to hear what Crowley was saying.</p><p>“Work with me here, I’m apologizing here. Yes? Good. Get in the car,” Crowley waved his hands towards the car.</p><p>Aziraphale snapped out of it. He was having a hard time following Crowley’s train of thought. Apology to asking him to get in the car?! “What? No!”</p><p>“Yes! Come with me, Aziraphale. Get in! We can go off together tonight. Alpha Centauri,” Crowley said in a rush.</p><p>Aziraphale heard Agnes’ words in his head. <em>Go with the one who wants to take you to the stars. </em>But how in the goodness gracious were he and Crowley supposed to go to Alpha Centauri?!</p><p>He gave Crowley a confused look. “Dear boy, unless your Bentley becomes a spaceship and you’ve figured out how to travel such a long distance, I do not believe you can take us there.”</p><p>Crowley couldn’t help but laugh. “Angel, my cottage is on Alpha Centauri Lane! Did I never tell you that?”</p><p>“No you did not. But Crowley, the way you answer my next question will determine whether or not I join you.”</p><p>“Yes. Anything. Just ask and I’ll do it,” Crowley responded.</p><p>“Will we be having dinner? I’m rather peckish.”</p><p>Crowley grinned. “Yes we will, angel. Made something nice. Get in.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. Agnes was right; he was going with the one who wanted to “take him to the stars” that were Alpha Centauri Lane.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>When they pulled up to the cottage, Aziraphale was immediately smitten with the outside. The exterior was made of dark gray bricks, and there were immaculately trimmed bushes lining the front. The shutters were black. It was perfectly Crowley.</p><p>Crowley ushered him inside. The space was pretty sparse. Aziraphale saw a dining room table, a nice leather couch, a huge flat screen tv with the best sound system money could buy. There was an atrocious throne too, but Aziraphale just ignored it. He was surprised by how minimalist the interior was. And <em>dark</em>. But he remembered that Crowley needed low lights for his sensitive eyes.</p><p>“Take a seat, angel. Just need to bring everything out to the table. Poured us both glass of wine, my best Cabernet.” Crowley paused for a moment. “S’not to get you drunk or buttered up, Aziraphale. I just…It pairs well with what I’ve made. Wasn’t going to give either of us more’n one glass. Got a lot I need to say to you,” he explained.</p><p>Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. He was a little concerned when he saw it on the table. This was not the time to be inebriated. Aziraphale sat down. The table was beautifully set, every piece of silverware in the right place. There were two candles in the center of the table. One was white and the other was black. It made Aziraphale smile. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but it reminded him of the two of them when they stood by each other in public. A beautiful contrast.</p><p>His confidence boost from God and his conversation with Anathema put him at ease. He felt comfortable being in Crowley’s cottage despite the events of last night. Aziraphale could tell that Crowley was genuinely sorry about what he’d said the night before. Most of all, he was glad that Crowley wanted to deal with this now instead of ghosting him for who knows how long. They could move forward, figure things out together.</p><p>Crowley was feeling nervous. His hands shook a bit as he cut up the pot roast. Aziraphale had come with him and even made a little joke about being hungry. He figured he had a slim chance of getting Aziraphale to come over, and his plan to do so was more reckless than anything he’d done in a good while. But it worked! Hopefully a homecooked meal and a sincere apology and explanation would fix what Crowley felt he’d broken.</p><p>He brought everything out to the table: fresh salad, pot roast, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and buttery rolls. Aziraphale’s mouth watered at the sight. He hadn’t had a comfort meal like this in ages. Crowley made up plates for both of them, making sure to give Aziraphale a generous helping of everything.</p><p>“There’s dessert too, but I figure we’ll eat that while we watch a movie tonight. Would’ve been nice to see Casablanca last week and I sorta…Messed that up. ‘M sorry, Aziraphale,” Crowley said apologetically.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded in acknowledgment. “Well, dear boy, I think neither of us were in a particularly good place to have enjoyed the film that weekend. I was using it to evade your question, after all. And for that, I apologize as well. Now let’s dig in before it gets cold, shall we?” he smiled.</p><p>“Hope it’s good. Been a while since I’ve gotten to cook for someone. ‘ve been wanting to for you since I met you,” Crowley admitted.</p><p>Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a tenderness and warmth that made his heart flutter. He felt himself calm some as he watched his friend eat. It appeared that Aziraphale wasn’t furious with him. Aziraphale’s appetite and wiggles of contentment suggested that he’d be receptive to what Crowley had to say.</p><p>“That was scrumptious, Crowley. I should hope that I’m able to taste more of your wonderful cooking. Far better than anything I have made, I must say.”</p><p>Crowley smiled for the first time all evening. There would be a next time! But now on to the hard part to getting that next time…</p><p>“Now Crowley, I do not want this…Heaviness to linger. I want to talk about last night, and I would like you to talk first. May we move to the couch, or would you prefer to have this conversation at the dinner table?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>Crowley was a little taken aback by Aziraphale’s forthrightness. He was a little glad he didn’t have to make the first move, though. He’d been fretting that he’d mess it up somehow. “Let’s sit on the couch. Comfier.”</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley sat on the sofa. They shifted their bodies so they were facing each other. To Crowley’s surprise, Aziraphale moved a little closer to him.</p><p>“May I take off your glasses, Crowley?”</p><p>He nodded ‘yes’, and Aziraphale carefully removed them and set them aside. In the low light it was difficult to see exactly what color Crowley’s eyes were. They appeared to be hazel, more on the brown side. It didn’t matter much to Aziraphale; he just wanted to make sure he could see all of Crowley’s expressions. No more hiding.</p><p>Crowley took a deep breath to calm himself. “Aziraphale, I’ve never told anyone about that part of my life. Thought I was over it all ‘cause it was so long ago. But I guess ‘m not. I thought I could just push through it all and tell you…But I ended up hurting you. I didn’t mean anything I said. The only stuff I meant was what I told you about the cult and stuff. Never meant to hurt you, angel. Know I did and I take ownership of that. Wasn’t right and ‘m sorry.”</p><p>“I forgive you, Crowley. You were in a tremendous amount of pain. For goodness sake, dear boy, you were traumatized. Given all you have gone through, there is no way that you could come through that unscathed. Not all of my wounds have healed either, Crowley. Some of them never will. I know you did not mean to hurt me. You were not quite yourself…I understand that in the midst of reliving such events that we lash out at the ones we confide in. I have done it myself. There is nothing wrong with you, dear boy. What you said about me, however, was.</p><p>“Crowley, what you said about my life’s work hurt me deeply. I must admit that I cried for much of the night. I only slept because I’d worn my body out. My heart aches for you, Crowley. Everything that the church and other pastors have done to you. Their abuse was cruel in the guise of Christianity. But Crowley, while I am a Christian too, I would never treat you that way. I adore you, dear boy. But the point still stands that your words cut like a knife and brought to mind some of my own wounds... For which I am grateful, in the sense that I am aware that I have some healing of my own to do.</p><p>“Make no mistake; I am not going anywhere. I would be heartbroken if you were to leave my life. But I must know how you feel about my life’s work, my vocation? I want you to be honest with me. Do not tell me what you think I want to come from your lips,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>“Angel, I meant it when I said early into our friendship that I don’t get it. I don’t get what it means to have a call. And I can’t imagine staying in the church. After what happened to me, I just can’t wrap my head ‘round it. Maybe someday you can help me grasp it. But Aziraphale, I dunno why I said you’re like Amnon. I don’t think that ‘n I never have. You didn’t deserve that and I’m so fuckin’ sorry for it…I really am. Aziraphale, I think you’re a bloody brilliant pastor. I was interested in you the first time I ever saw you. Was shocked to see your clerical collar. But I watched you every time you talked to people. Still do, actually. Can’t help it. People leave so happy after they talk to you. Wanted that for myself. You’ve given that to me, angel.</p><p>“And when we went to the farmer’s market and I joined you at your Halloween stuff. Everyone just loves you, angel. You introduced me to them, made me feel important. That’s what you do with everyone who comes and sees you. I admire you, Aziraphale. I think you’re brave. Heard you when you prayed with Beau that first time, y’know…The way you just embraced them and stood up for them when that preacher boy came. And I know you’d stand up for me too, like that. ‘F I’d met you right after I’d Fallen, I think I would’ve come out of this okay. If everyone had you as a pastor I don’t think anyone would be fucked in the head by the church.</p><p>“Dunno if you remember when you told me you never wanted me to be anyone but me. Same goes for you, angel. I’m <em>glad </em>you’re a pastor. Giving people the hope that I never got to have. If you were anything else, you wouldn’t be you. Angel, I gotta tell you if you were anyone else, I never would’ve called you,” Crowley put his hand close to Aziraphale’s.</p><p>Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley’s hand in his and interlaced their fingers.</p><p>“If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t be here, Crowley... I am rather relieved to know you do not see me as your enemy. The thought that you may perceive me that way was almost too much to bear, my dear.”</p><p>“Angel, I swear on my life that I didn’t mean a bloody word I said to you. I don’t even know why the bloody Someone I did. Took my pain out on you and I wish I could take every word back. You know I would if I could,” Crowley said apologetically.</p><p>Aziraphale looked deep into Crowley’s eyes. He saw the sincerity and vulnerability within them. He wished he could reach out, take Crowley’s face in his hand, and kiss him. The thought made him a little uncomfortable, but he just let it be. It was what it was. He could never stay mad at Crowley. He cared too much about him for that. Crowley had proved capable of talking about things in a mature manner. Crowley took ownership of his part, something that Aziraphale had seen little of in his life. He admired him more than he thought possible.</p><p>“I know you would, Crowley. But I feel that it was important that this fight happened. Am I correct to assume that you pushed yourself too hard last night? If I’m correct in my assumption, may I inquire as to why?” Aziraphale asked tenderly.</p><p>Crowley didn’t take his eyes off of Aziraphale’s. It wasn’t easy for him to hold his gaze, but he wanted Aziraphale to know he was in this. “Pastor’s wisdom…Yeah, ‘spose I did. Was trying to prove that I trusted you with this stuff ‘n that I was over my past. Trust isn’t the issue, angel. I do trust you, was a huge thing for me to tell you anything at all. Like I said, never talked about this to anyone before. Should’ve stopped though. See it now. Guess I was tryna prove that you bein’ a pastor wasn’t an obstacle to our fut—uh, friendship. Friendship, yeah.”</p><p>Aziraphale gently squeezed Crowley’s hand. “I understand. I admire your desire and willingness to share your life and pain with me. However, you never have to prove a thing to me. Our friendship can survive whatever we go through, I feel rather confident of that.”</p><p>Crowley thought for a moment. “Angel, maybe we should have a ‘safe word’ from now on. Dunno another word. I know it’s a sex thing but got nothin’ else to describe it. Something we can say when things are starting to send us into a free fall. Could both use it no matter who’s talkin’. What do you say?”</p><p>Aziraphale giggled. “Dear boy, you haven’t the slightest idea of the things I’ve heard congregants tell me…But yes, I think that is a rather good idea. What shall our word be, dear boy?”</p><p>“Hmm… How ‘bout Hogweed? Hate those bastards ‘n it’s easy to remember.”</p><p>“Perfect. I’ll commit that to memory. Whenever either of us is getting to a place where we need to halt a discussion and change the subject, we must promise each other we will use it. And I apologize in advance, but I shall be using my ‘pastor’s heart’ when our conversations take these twists and turns. I want to protect us both, my dear boy.”</p><p>Crowley nodded. “Understood, angel. Callin’ this our arrangement from now on. But you’re not gonna snuff out any tough chats we have, right?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “I will do my best not to. You may need to, as the kids say, ‘shout me out’ if I try to shut something down preemptively. I encourage you to do so, if you feel it is necessary. I will explain myself if need be.”</p><p>Crowley rubbed his thumb along Aziraphale’s hand. “Got it. Better believe I’ll hold ya to it.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After they discussed their arrangement for a little longer, Crowley brought out dessert. It was a simple dark chocolate pie. Aziraphale couldn’t help but have three pieces because it was so delicious. Crowley couldn’t complain; he loved watching Aziraphale eat and felt proud that it was his food that brought him such ecstasy. Maybe someday he could take him there in a different way…</p><p>After dessert, Crowley put on ‘Ten Things I Hate About You’ at Aziraphale’s request. He saw it while they scrolled through Flixtube to find something worth watching. Aziraphale was told by a congregant that it was based off ‘Taming of the Shrew’ and he couldn’t resist.</p><p>Aziraphale put his head in Crowley’s lap as they watched the film. Crowley covered him up with a blanket and ran his fingers gently through Aziraphale’s hair. As Crowley looked down at the beautiful man nestled comfortably on him, he knew he was in love.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Figured I would share a happy memory. So as a Quaker, I believe in a "spiritual baptism." This is not with water. It is where we experience Christ and feel His Presence. It is the moment when we become Convinced that He is in our hearts and working through us. I experienced this moment during a Catholic Easter Vigil in 2015. But I chose to have a water baptism in 2018. I did this because it was a commitment from me to listen and obey God. She called me to ministry, and this was my promise to Her that I would listen to Her. I designed the worship service for my baptism. We sang "Here I Am, Lord." I bawled my eyes out because it has been important to me. Just as it is affirming to me, I felt that it would be affirming to our beloved Aziraphale, too.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is in memory of all of my transgender siblings who have died from anti-transgender violence. They are all with me in everything that I do, and I feel them with me. I live with them in me. I carry them all with me in my vocation as a pastor. </p><p>I appreciate every single one of your comments. I eagerly wait for them, and honestly they have been really helping me as I navigate a time of loneliness and depression. Please know I read them all and I love all of you &lt;3 .</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was quite late when Crowley took Aziraphale home. The energy between them was peaceful. Talking things through, along with the intimacy they shared while watching the film, was healing. Although it was not explicitly said, it was clear that their friendship had deepened. Aziraphale would never speak this out loud, but he was thankful in a way that the fight happened. It called to mind a scripture passage that Aziraphale leaned on during conflicts in his life and within the church:</p><p>
  <em>Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way. If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Mother. She loves to help. You’ll get Her help, and won’t be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. </em>
</p><p>It was inevitable that there would be conflicts between them revolving around matters of faith and religion. They both had significant trauma in their backgrounds. Their paths took them in different directions, both valid. One left religion behind, doubted and challenged every theological concept he came across. The other refused to let go of his Call, trying with everything he had to make the church a safe space for queer people. But Aziraphale had faith that no matter what tests and challenges came in his friendship with Crowley, whether from outside forces or their own internal struggles, they would come out the better for it. The evening they’d shared together proved that.</p><p>The drive back to Aziraphale’s apartment was over far too soon. He let out a small sigh of disappointment. He wanted more time with Crowley. Craved it. But they both had full days ahead of them.</p><p>“What’re our Friday plans? Any ideas?” Crowley asked.</p><p>Aziraphale frowned. Friday was November 20<sup>th</sup>. “Unfortunately, Crowley, we cannot spend Friday together. As much as I would love to, the Beloved Disciples church is holding our annual Transgender Day of Remembrance Vigil.”</p><p>Crowley nodded. “S’an important day. Honestly surprised that there’s a church holding a worship service about it. I always read the full list that night and drink knock back some shots in their memory. Guess that’s my ritual. How’s yours go?”</p><p>“If you ask me, dear boy, I find that’s a fitting ritual. We read the list of names from all across the world, just as you do. I read scripture, give a message, and then we enter into silence for a long period of time. If people feel led to speak, then they are free to do so. I then close the service in a prayer,” he answered.</p><p>“No music?”</p><p>“No music. In our denomination when vigils are held, we do not sing.”</p><p>Crowley gave Aziraphale a confused look. “Why? Aren’t hymns and all that comforting to people? Thought every church had singing…”</p><p>“Well, in a vigil, we believe that the dead will speak to and through us. In the Beloved Disciples’ theology on this ritual, we believe that planned music is distracting. The silence gives those we are remembering more space to be heard. However, we encourage anyone who feels led to sing to sing. This is not a strictly upheld belief or practice, mind you. But it is one that I value. I have found it to help me stay present with my feelings, as much as I wish to run from them.”</p><p>“Makes sense, I s’pose. D’you want to come over when it’s over? Can pick you up, we can watch a movie or somethin’.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled and blushed a little. “If you would not be uncomfortable with me being quite exhausted and quite morose that night, then I would love to. I am taking my day off on Saturday to recover from the vigil as well, so when you have to take me home will not be of any concern.”</p><p>Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “Angel, I figured you’d be pretty worn out after putting on the vigil. Be good for you to have company, ‘n I want to see you. ‘F you want to stay the night, you can. No pressure or anything.”</p><p>“Well, my dear, you’ve stayed at my apartment a few times now. I think it would be quite nice to stay at yours. I do believe I need some time away from my home. I’ve been there far too much these past ten years, I’m afraid... But I must get going to bed, Crowley. You won’t be seeing me at the coffee shop this week. Given all that I must do to prepare emotionally and performatively, I will not be visiting with my congregants. The service will end at eight. I look forward to our weekend together,” Aziraphale gently rubbed Crowley’s hand.</p><p>“Night, angel. Text you when I get home.”</p><p>Aziraphale patted Crowley’s hand one last time before getting out of the Bentley.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley’s thoughts drifted to Aziraphale every day at work. It was a challenge to focus on anything other than worrying about Aziraphale. Crowley knew how difficult Transgender Day of Remembrance would be for him. He couldn’t even imagine all the years that Aziraphale had dealt with the painful aftermath alone. How did he cope? Crowley imagined Aziraphale sitting at home, wrapped up in a blanket trying to read some cheesy romance to take his mind off of things (Aziraphale didn’t need to know that Crowley saw his stash of queer romances on one of his bedroom bookshelves). Maybe he drank a whole bottle of wine and laid in bed the duration of the next day. If Crowley had to put himself out there and hold space for a crowd of feelings, he’d certainly drink himself into a stupor for an entire weekend.</p><p>But this time, Aziraphale wouldn’t have to deal with the emotional fatigue alone. He’d warmly accepted Crowley’s offer to relax and spend the weekend at his cottage. Sure it wasn’t as cozy and cluttered as Aziraphale’s place, but Crowley knew how to make Aziraphale comfortable. They’d pick up some takeout, have a nice meal, and watch whatever Aziraphale wanted. Crowley would give him his softest, most luxurious blanket to wrap himself up in. Feed him ice cream by the scoopful if he wanted. He’d make Aziraphale feel safe, cared for, and <em>loved</em>. A weekend perfect for his angel.</p><p>When Crowley finished Bessie’s care for the day, he headed off to the breakroom, Aziraphale still on his mind. The peace turned to agitation when he saw Gabriel and Beez in the room. They ignored him and continued their conversation. He eavesdropped as he heated up his leftovers.</p><p>“Get this. Pastor Fell’s holding yet another vigil for that transgender day of whatever. The church is long past these issues! I don’t understand why he thinks it’s important. We’ve got bigger things to work on now. Growing the church, overtaking all the Devilists in this town,” Gabriel said dismissively.</p><p>Beez rolled their eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t care about what that pastor does? And don’t forget who you’re talking to,” they glared.</p><p>Gabriel backpedaled. “Beez, you’re different than all the others! You being nonbinary’s fine. Sure it make things kind of weird sometimes but you know I don’t mind, babe. The thing is, you don’t make a big deal about it when there’s more important things to do. It’s not that important. And it has no place in the church. Gender and sexuality should just be kept to ourselves.”</p><p>Crowley took out his container out of the microwave and slammed the door shut. Beez ignored him, but Gabriel turned around in annoyance. Crowley sneered at him.</p><p>“Excuse me, worker bee. But we’re kind of having a conversation. So just get your lunch and find a different place to eat,” Gabriel said in a condescending tone.</p><p>Crowley sauntered over to the table and sat down. He plopped his lunch down on the table. Some of its contents splashed out and landed on Gabriel’s expensive gray suit. If looks could kill, Crowley would’ve been smote right then and there.</p><p>“Hey there, bishop boy. Looks like you’ve made a mess of yourself. Let me take care of that for you,” Crowley licked his finger and rubbed it on the arm of Gabriel’s suit.</p><p>Gabriel moved his arm away in a flash. He gave Crowley a threatening smile. “Bishop Gabriel, to you. Don’t know why a heathen like you knows who I am, but you’re of no concern to me. Now unless you want to pay for my suit, you should probably get going.”</p><p>“Take your lunch break elsewhere, Crowley. Or else,” Beelzebub added.</p><p>Crowley knew he’d be punished for his transgression, but he didn’t care. He was going to stick up for Aziraphale no matter what the cost was.</p><p>Crowley leaned into Gabriel’s personal space. He rested his hand on his chin and stared into Gabriel’s violet eyes. “So you’ve got a nonbinary partner. You accept them. No questions. But you’ve got a problem with your best pastor comforting people like them,” Crowley gestured towards Beez. “No offense ‘bout your religion, boss. Know you’re not a Christian. But then again neither’s bishop boy here. Aren’t you supposed to care about the people who get treated like shit the most? ‘F anything, you should be giving Pastor Fell a commendation for what he’s doing. Caring about people like Beez more’n you do.”</p><p>“You know nothing about that ‘pastor,’” Gabriel used air quotes for emphasis. “And looking at you, I’d say you’re not fit to judge who is and who isn’t Christian,” Gabriel responded.</p><p>“I know enough to know that Pastor Fell’s the only good one of your lot. And besides, isn’t it blasphemous for you to be snogging a Devilist? Seems like fraternizing with your hereditary enemy, dontcha think,” Crowley jabbed.</p><p>Beez got up and grabbed Crowley by the shoulder and yanked him from his chair. Despite their size, they were quite strong. “Get out of here before you say something you’ll regret, Crowley. Instead of your reports being due on Friday, they’re due by the end of today. Now leave or it’ll be due by the time I leave at five,” they commanded.</p><p>“Fine, fine. But this isn’t over bishop boy,” Crowley growled.</p><p>He picked up his lunch and strutted out of the breakroom. As angry as Crowley was, he didn’t want to show anything other than confidence to Bishop Gabriel. He couldn’t risk Gabriel seeing an ounce of weakness in him. He had a strong feeling there would be uglier interactions between them in the future. Crowley only hoped that the bishop would think twice before saying a word about Aziraphale in his presence in the future. No matter what consequences befell him, Crowley would <em>never </em>let someone treat Aziraphale that way again.</p><p>When Crowley made it to his office, he looked at the church’s MyBook page. After Gabriel’s dismissive comments about the vigil, Crowley wanted to see if Aziraphale had made any public announcement about the event. Much to his relief, Aziraphale had done just that. It would be held outside in the church parking lot, each person encouraged to bring their own candle and to dress warmly. It was November, after all.</p><p>Using one of his many fake accounts, Crowley selected “going” on the event.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Friday evening came before Aziraphale knew it. He looked out to the crowd. The parking lot was full of people compared to the year prior. In 2019, only a dozen people came. Aziraphale was shocked to see at least thirty in attendance this time. Social media was making more of a difference than Aziraphale could’ve imagined. And much to his surprise, he saw Beau and what appeared to be their parents in the front row. Their mother looked very uncomfortable and was shifting her feet. Their father, on the other hand, looked curious and interested. He had his arm around Beau, and it appeared to be affectionate.</p><p>When his watch read 7, Aziraphale stepped up to the plain wooden pulpit he brought out for outdoor services. He used the cheapest portable speaker and mic he could find—the church couldn’t afford anything better—but it got the job done and the congregation could hear him just fine. Aziraphale took a deep breath and began.</p><p>“Good evening, beloved children of God. We are gathered here today in memory of transgender people who have lost their lives due to anti-transgender violence. This is an important day, and one that I must admit I wish did not need to exist. But unfortunately, it must. Transgender Day of Remembrance is an annual observance. It began in 1999. Gwendolyn Ann Smith created this event in memory of Rita Hester, a transgender woman who was murdered in 1998. This day of remembrance has become an important one for the transgender community and for all of those who love and cherish us. And as Christians, I do believe it is of utmost importance for us to gather in honor of all of our transgender siblings of Christ whose lives were taken. We must come together and weep, just as Christ weeps. Now, let us honor our transgender siblings who have been killed by reading the list of names.”</p><p>Aziraphale, Adelaide, Tanya, and Joshua took turns reading from the list of names. Aziraphale was committed to reading all the names that were collected over the course of a year. All transgender people who died deserved to be honored and remembered no matter what country they were from. They would all be loved and remembered, even if the names of some of the dead were not known. He knew there were many more who were not on the list, and so as he read, he thought of them too. Aziraphale prayed that each of them could feel his love and care reach them in Heaven.</p><p>A few minutes of silence were held before Kora read the scripture. Kora tried to hold back her tears, but she was not able to. They rolled down her cheeks. Aziraphale stood by her and put his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. His touch calmed her some her, and she read in a shaky but steady voice:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span class="u">Isaiah 56:1-5</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Thus says the </em>
  <em>Lord</em>
  <em>:</em>
  <em><br/>    Maintain justice, and do what is right,<br/>for soon my salvation will come,<br/>    and my deliverance be revealed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Happy is the mortal who does this,</em>
  <em><br/>    the one who holds it fast,<br/>who keeps the sabbath, not profaning it,<br/>    and refrains from doing any evil.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do not let the foreigner joined to the </em>
  <em>Lord</em>
  <em> say,</em>
  <em><br/>    “The Lord will surely separate me from his people”;<br/>and do not let the eunuch say,<br/>    “I am just a dry tree.”<br/>For thus says the Lord:<br/>To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths,<br/>    who choose the things that please me<br/>    and hold fast my covenant,<br/>I will give, in my house and within my walls,<br/>    a monument and a name<br/>    better than sons and daughters;<br/>I will give them an everlasting name<br/>    that shall not be cut off.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>When Kora finished, she broke down and began to sob. Aziraphale brought her into his embrace. He held her tight until her wife, Adelaide, came to her. Aziraphale gently guided Kora into Adelaide’s arms, and they walked into the crowd together. He noticed that Beau’s mother pulled a tissue from her purse and handed it to Adelaide. It warmed his heart to see that small act of kindness.</p><p>Aziraphale gave Adelaide and Kora some time to settle back into the crowd before he began his sermon. He said a short prayer, crossed himself three times, and delivered his message.</p><p>
  <em>“I must admit, today is one of the most challenging days in my life as a pastor. As a transgender man myself, I am all too aware of the violence and cruelty my siblings face every day. I have been the victim of violence simply for being who I am. I was left for dead several times. I survived. And yet, not all of us survive the anti-transgender violence that is thrust upon us. Violence that is predominantly thrust upon trans women of color. And we are gathered here, with candles in hand, because others thought that transgender people’s lives meant less than theirs. My heart aches, my fists clench in anger, and my eyes well with tears when I think of their last moments of life. When I look upon their beautiful faces every time I see the news, I fall to my knees. I fall to my knees and cry out to God, my prayers unintelligible when spoken or falling in the form of tears. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“As we mourn the deaths of our transgender siblings this evening, I am reminded of this passage of scripture. Foreigners and eunuchs were often treated cruelly in biblical times. Unfortunately, that is still very much the case today. While many things have changed since our scriptures were written, many things have stayed the same. And humanity’s treatment of those we consider to be the other has continued for thousands of years. Just as foreigners and eunuchs were treated in Isaiah’s time, transgender people, especially transgender women of color, are treated cruelly. People try to separate us from God and preach hatred against us. They say that we are abominations, that our very existence goes against God’s creation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Many transgender people find images of eunuchs in scripture to be a comfort. The way they were treated speak closely to our experiences. This passage, in particular, makes me think of our names. Just as the eunuch could not carry on their lineage, our transgender siblings who have been murdered are no longer able to carry on in the land of the living. Their physical presence is gone from this Earth, a terrible travesty. So the eunuch, saying that they are ‘just a dry tree’, is afraid that they will be forgotten because there is no one to carry on their name. Perhaps we, too, are afraid that our transgender siblings who have died will be forgotten because they are no longer able to walk, talk, speak their names in their beautiful voices.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Each and every one of our transgender siblings who has died chose what pleased God, and that was to be the person She made them to be. They pleased Her by holding fast to who they were. They pleased Her by being human, caring for others and themselves. Those we mourn today did what was right by being who they were. Simply for being who they were in a world that makes our very bodies such a political affair, they fought for justice for us all by being alive. We must always remember that. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Because the eunuchs pleased Her, God promised them that their names would always live on. Even if they were forgotten to us in time, God would never allow them to be forgotten by Her. She loved them so much that She gave them names that last forever in eternity. She created a monument to them in Her heart. Even though their lineage did not carry on, the eunuchs’ names did. And being known and loved by God far surpassed what humans could do. She reassured them of that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Today, we gather to remember our transgender siblings. Our presence here is a monument to them. Reading their names aloud and holding them in this sacred space is the way we give them all ‘an everlasting name that shall not be cut off.’ We are adding their names to the house and walls we call our church and our community. They forever live within us and within this community. Because we have spoken and heard our transgender siblings’ names this evening, they will never be forgotten. Just as they are never cut off from the love of God, our transgender siblings are not cut off from us even though they have passed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“As we continue forward as the church, I pray that we will carry the memory and lives of these beloved people with us. It is my hope that we will continue to fight for the justice and do what is right for our transgender siblings. We owe it to them to continue their good work. I pray that we will continue to work to make the church and our world a safe and accepting place for the transgender community. Let us live with them on our lips, in our hearts, and in our actions.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley sat down and leaned against the side of the building. It was out of sight and in the dark, so no one attending the service would be able to see him. He didn’t want anyone to know he was there, and certainly didn’t want Aziraphale to know it. It was hard for Crowley to bring himself there, but he couldn’t stay away. He hoped this would help him to better understand why Aziraphale had chosen to stay a clergyperson. And Crowley had to admit to himself that he wanted to hear Aziraphale’s voice. He wished he had the opportunity to hear it every single day. Maybe someday he would.</p><p>He listened closely to everything that was said. He closed his eyes as each name was read aloud. As each name was said, Crowley found himself hoping that there was Someone up there that was taking care of them. And he also found himself cursing whoever that Someone was for letting all this suffering happen in the first place. If the so-called God people told him to worship was all powerful, then why didn’t She do anything to keep transgender people from harm?</p><p>He found himself tearing up when he heard the scripture reader sobbing. The scripture itself meant nothing to Crowley, but the woman’s reaction did. She understood the gravity and heaviness of the moment. And he could hear Aziraphale’s whispers of love and affirmation to the women through the microphone. Crowley imagined that Aziraphale was probably hugging her, given how her cries became muffled. It was a very Aziraphale thing to do.</p><p>Crowley hung on every word of Aziraphale’s sermon. He cared about what he had to say. Rather than ripping it apart, which was his first instinct, he listened. Aziraphale was speaking from his heart as a transgender man and pastor. Crowley wanted to know how he found hope on Transgender Day of Remembrance. Much to his surprise, Crowley liked Aziraphale’s belief that by speaking of them and gathering as a community that each person who died was given an everlasting name. He loved the idea that their presence honoring them was a creation of a monument. The thought made him feel more connected to the people on the list than all the years prior.</p><p>When the silence began, Crowley got in the Bentley to pick up the Chinese takeout he’d ordered. He would be back with it by the time the service was over, and he didn’t want to keep his angel waiting too long for a good meal.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After the vigil concluded and Aziraphale had put everything away, Beau and their parents came up to Aziraphale. Each parent was holding one of Beau’s hands in theirs. It was a sight that Aziraphale hadn’t expected to see, but it was one that warmed him through to his very soul.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, it’s good to meet you. Ol—Beau has told us a lot about you. I’m Vernon and this is my wife, Evelyn,” they shook Aziraphale’s hands with the ones not holding Beau’s.</p><p>Vernon continued. “We heard about what happened at the coffee shop, and we are very thankful that you were there to offer support. We thought Reverend Augustine was a Godly man, but his behavior told us otherwise. So we left the church.”</p><p>Evelyn nodded. “We want to go to church as a family, and Beau reads everything you write. She’s—uh, they, I’m sorry sweetheart—has been showing them to us. Maybe you can help us work through all of this and how God fits in?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “Beau, it is wonderful to see you again and it’s a delight to meet you, Vernon and Evelyn. You’ve raised such a wonderful person. Let me give you my business card. Would you be interested in scheduling a meeting sometime next week? I am more than happy to discuss whatever is most on your hearts and minds.” He pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to Evelyn.</p><p>She put it in her purse. “We’ll take you up on that, Pastor Fell. Thank you for putting on this worship service. There is so much we didn’t know, and we still don’t.”</p><p>“We’ll shoot you an email tomorrow with some times that work for us. God bless you,” Vernon patted Aziraphale on the shoulder, and the family left, still hand in hand.</p><p>Shortly after Beau and their family left, Crowley pulled up in the Bentley. Aziraphale walked over to the car and flopped inside. He set his overnight bag by his feet and put his head back against the seat. He let out a rush of air and stared at the ceiling.</p><p>“Chinese food’s in the back. Got your favorites. Let’s get you back to the cottage. Got lots of blankets and some cookie dough ice cream waiting to take you to comfort land,” Crowley said.</p><p>“Thank you, dear boy. For once, I wouldn’t mind you breaking traffic laws. I want to get out of this formal attire and my binder. And preaching makes me rather hungry, and the food smells absolutely sinful,” Aziraphale looked over at Crowley. He tried to smile, but Crowley could tell he was worn out.</p><p>“Your wish is my command, angel. Hold on tight.”</p><p>They ate their dinner and dessert in silence before curling up together on the couch in their pajamas. Crowley was a little surprised when Aziraphale asked if he wanted to cuddle. He figured after such an emotional night Aziraphale needed the comfort. Crowley hoped it meant more, but he didn’t want to press it.</p><p>Crowley was the big spoon and Aziraphale was the little spoon. He covered them up in a black, fluffy blanket. Crowley loved the way that Aziraphale’s large, soft belly felt on his hand. He kept his hand over the blanket to keep himself from moving farther than Aziraphale would be comfortable with. Aziraphale leaned back into him and sighed in contentment. Crowley took it as a good sign and smiled. He leaned forward a little so he could smell Aziraphale’s hair. His chamomile shampoo smelled heavenly.</p><p>“Crowley?”</p><p>“Yes, angel?”</p><p>Aziraphale carefully shifted until he was facing Crowley. Crowley moved back into the couch some to give Aziraphale a little more space. Aziraphale was blushing, and it was clear to Crowley that Aziraphale was aroused. Crowley had felt that way since he touched Aziraphale’s stomach and was excited to see the feeling was mutual.</p><p>Aziraphale swallowed hard. But he was feeling brave. When he saw the love between Kora and Adelaide and Beau’s family, Aziraphale’s mind immediately went to Crowley. When he thought of all his transgender siblings who died, Aziraphale was reminded of how short life was. Hadn’t he grieved Christopher long enough? If there was something between him and Crowley, then it was worth taking a step forward.</p><p>“If you are not interested in what I ask, I understand. And please, do not feel pressured…Well, I’ve been wanting to…I was wondering if…M-may I kiss you?”</p><p>Crowley answered by pressing his lips to Aziraphale’s.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The first scripture mentioned is James 1:2-6 from The Message translation.</p><p>The second scripture is from the New Revised Standard Version</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for making y'all wait a week. But good news! This chapter is very fluffy &lt;3.</p><p>Thank you for all your comments on my work. Last week was really difficult with planning and preparing for a Transgender Day of Remembrance Service (I delivered the message). It takes a lot of emotional energy, and I read your comments over and over again. They mean so much to me and keep me going during this tough time in my life &lt;3.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their first kiss was tender and soft. Something precious, sacred. For Crowley, it was life changing. He’d never kissed someone he’d loved before. In fact, he’d never been in love until he met Aziraphale. Crowley didn’t know how it would feel, what it could be, until a being so filled with love walked into his life. All of the kisses before Aziraphale were transactional. With Sebastian, it was a way to try to connect with another person in pain. With clients he serviced at the strip club and on the dirty streets of NYC, it cost extra. He didn’t know if Aziraphale loved him yet, but it didn’t matter much to him. Aziraphale <em>initiated </em>the kiss. He <em>asked </em>if they could cuddle. He <em>accepted </em>Crowley’s offer to spend time together after a draining vigil. Crowley couldn’t believe he finally had his angel’s lips on his.</p><p>Aziraphale was a little surprised that Crowley closed the gap between them. He said a little prayer of thanks to the people who gave him the courage to try again. Aziraphale hadn’t been with anyone since Christopher's death in 1985. He never thought that he could be attracted to another person again. Aziraphale did long for physical intimacy, and he missed connecting with someone on such a deep level. But Aziraphale’s embedded theology about having only one partner for life kept him terrified. That is, until Christopher had visited him to assure him that it was okay to move on. Now Aziraphale knew he was ready for this next brave step.</p><p> When Crowley brought his hand to Aziraphale’s cheek and caressed it, he felt loved for the first time in decades. Crowley’s tender touch warmed him from the inside out. Aziraphale adored Crowley with everything he had to give, and he could feel Crowley felt the same. The risk he’d taken was well worth it.</p><p>Crowley broke the kiss and stared into Aziraphale’s eyes. His stylish, heart framed glasses fit the moment perfectly. Aziraphale loved that Crowley didn’t need to hide his eyes away in the cottage. He loved his crow’s feet, the slight bags under his eyes. There was a hint of mischief and affection in Crowley’s gaze.</p><p>“Angel…Can we move to the bedroom? ‘M not asking for sex or anything like that. Just more comfortable than my couch. And a good place to talk. Mean that in a good way…Want to talk about…this.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “Us?”</p><p>Crowley pressed a chaste kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. “Yeah, talk about us.”</p><p>Aziraphale gave Crowley the biggest smile he could muster. He kissed Crowley once more before getting up from the couch. He extended his hand out and Crowley took it. Aziraphale let Crowley take the lead, and soon they were in Crowley’s bedroom. He couldn’t believe how massive Crowley’s bed was! He’d never seen a bed so spacious and comfortable looking in his life. Aziraphale wasn’t fond of how all the covers were black, but it was so perfectly Crowley.</p><p>Crowley lifted up the covers, slid underneath them, and beckoned Aziraphale to join him. He gave Aziraphale a mischievous grin that made his heart flutter. Aziraphale would never grow tired of Crowley’s facial expressions. He couldn’t imagine growing tired of Crowley at all, though. Now, all Aziraphale knew was that a life without Crowley in it would be empty and boring. He never wanted to go back to the days before they’d met. Aziraphale prayed to Her that he’d never have to.</p><p>Aziraphale climbed into Crowley’s arms and laid his head on Crowley’s bony chest. It felt like home. They looked at each other, and Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead.</p><p>Crowley took a breath before he spoke. “Angel, I may mess up what I wanna say. Just bear with me here. S’not something I’ve ever…Said or done before. To be honest, ‘ve never been in a relationship before. Is that gonna be a problem? Being with me when I don’t have any experience with having an… ‘us’?”</p><p>“Well, my darling boy, I’ve only been partnered once. And that was 35 years ago…Truly a lifetime ago. Crowley, you not being in any romantic relationships is of no concern to me. And, of course, this takes two. An ‘us’ is not about those in our pasts. It is about who we are and where we are now,” Aziraphale responded.</p><p>“Good to know, angel. I like that, ‘bout an ‘us’ being about you ‘n me right now. Not all that other stuff…But ‘ve got another question before I get into all my ‘feelings’ stuff.”</p><p>Aziraphale curled up closer to Crowley. “Ask me anything, Crowley. I promise I will be honest with you.”</p><p>“So I know how much you miss Christopher. Not saying that’s bad. Please don’t take it the wrong way. But you loved him like crazy. Never heard or seen anyone love someone like that. ‘Cept for shit romance movies…Guess what I’m trying to ask is this. You got room in your heart for me, angel?” Crowley’s voice wavered. He tried to hold onto Agnes’ prophetic words—<em>there is a place at his table for you</em>—but what if she was wrong?</p><p>His angel cupped Crowley’s face. He looked at Crowley with the most sincere, loving expression. It made Crowley’s heart flutter.</p><p>“Oh darling, of course there’s a place in my heart for you. If I was not ready to commit to you or did not feel that I could, I assure you that I never would have kissed you tonight. I do understand your concern though. Christopher was a very important part of my life. He always will be. But Crowley, who I am today is not who I was at that time. You are my present, and it is my hope that you are my future, too,” Aziraphale admitted.</p><p>Crowley pulled Aziraphale in for a kiss. It was closed mouth and filled with so much care. Aziraphale was clearly a gentle lover. Crowley relished in the softness of Aziraphale’s lips and the sweetness of his kisses. It wasn’t like the sloppy French kisses Crowley had forced himself to give johns and clients in the past.</p><p>Crowley knew he could spend his whole life here in this moment, kissing Aziraphale in the comfort of his bed. But there was more to discuss, and Crowley felt courageous enough to have this conversation. He didn’t know if he’d have it in him to be so vulnerable when the sun rose. After nearly a half hour, Crowley broke their make out session.</p><p>“Don’t want to stop kissing you, angel, but ‘ve got more to say. Good stuff still.”</p><p>Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s nose.</p><p>Crowley let out a soft chuckle before continuing. “So…Yeah, been thinking about you since I saw you for the first time at the coffee shop. Every day since then, too. Kept coming back to the shop at the same time ‘s you so I could look at you and listen to your voice. Couldn’t help it. Aziraphale, you’re literally the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. You’re <em>perfect.</em> I mean that. ‘F I’m being honest, actually never met someone I’ve been physically attracted to ‘til I met you.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes widened in surprise. “You can’t possibly mean that.”</p><p>Crowley kissed Aziraphale again, this time firmly. He wanted to get the point across that he meant what he said.</p><p>“Oh <em>Crowley</em>,” Aziraphale whispered.</p><p>“Yeah, ‘course I mean it. But that’s not why I want you. Well, part of it is. Anyone’d be lucky to have an angel like you. But I just want <em>all </em>of you. Always learn somethin’ from you and you listen to me. Put up with my questions ‘n you even answer ‘em. Big thing for me was when you forgave me when I fucked up. Got in my car when I showed up looking like shit and wanted to talk it out with me. ‘S never happened to me before.” Crowley looked away for a moment. A brief wave of shame washed over him.</p><p>“Look at me, Crowley. We both made a mistake that night. I could tell you were pushing yourself, yet I did not stop you. I was experiencing my own triggers but did not listen to my body. And my darling, I cannot imagine a time when I would not forgive you. Of course I am sure there will be times when it is difficult for both of us. And, I can be rather stubborn when I feel I’m right…Or rather, when I know I’m right,” Aziraphale smirked.</p><p>“Right bastard, you are,” Crowley kissed Aziraphale again. “Guess what I want to say is that I want this—want <em>us</em>. Like us to be a thing. Y’know, exclusive. ‘F you want me.”</p><p>Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley. “I want you more than I can express in words, my dear. I do not believe anything could make me happier than for us to be, as the kids say, ‘a unit.’ To be your boyfriend and to have you as my partner…I have dreamed of it. Like you, I have been interested in you since you first arrived in Tadfield. I must admit that you are the loveliest being I have ever been blessed to lay my eyes upon. Should God ever take a human form again, I would hope She would look just like you.”</p><p>Crowley blushed. “Ngk.”</p><p>Aziraphale continued. “So, Crowley, to answer you, yes. I want you. And I would be delighted beyond measure to be your romantic partner…But…” his voice trailed off.</p><p>Crowley felt a pang of panic. “But? What d’you mean <em>but</em>?”</p><p>“But, Crowley, will my vocation be a problem? I worry sometimes that my presence will just trigger more pain for you. I would be devastated if I caused irreparable harm to you, my beautiful darling,” Aziraphale said with a sigh.</p><p>“Angel, it isn’t a problem for me. I’ve thought about this. Yeah we might have some knock out drag outs sometimes…You’re dealing with me, after all. But ‘m proud of you, angel. I’m starting to see and understand why you’re doing this. Dunno if I believe that God would call someone to anything. Never happened to me, so guess it’s just not my experience. But I see how hard you’re trying, Aziraphale. ‘N I see how you treat people. Can’t help but like you more when I see you with your sheep. You give a shit about them…And I know you give a shit about me.”</p><p>Aziraphale held Crowley tight. “I do, ah, ‘give a shit’ about you. Very much so. Crowley, before I met you my life was so dull. And I do not know how or why I was able to find the courage to talk to you the first time, but I am thankful I did. I love your questions, my darling. And I don’t want you to change, either. It would break my heart to see you be anyone other than you.”</p><p>“‘S long as you don’t try to make me a ‘pastor’s wife’ we’re all good, angel.”</p><p>“Oh God no, Crowley. As long as we are together, I promise you that I will never ask or expect you to participate in my vocational life. I only hope that you will be waiting for me in your beloved Bentley when I leave the church on Sundays.”</p><p>Crowley squeezed Aziraphale. “I promise you, angel. We’ll be waiting for you every Sunday.”</p><p>They were silent for a moment, looking into each other eyes. They were both a little shocked that this moment actually happened. Crowley was head over heels in love with Aziraphale and he couldn’t believe that he could formally call Aziraphale <em>his </em>angel. Aziraphale wasn’t in love just yet, but he knew he was heading in that direction. It was an incredible feeling. One that he’d missed terribly.</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley began to kiss again. They held each other close and made out until they fell asleep.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Much to his own surprise, Crowley woke up before Aziraphale. His angel was out cold and snoring softly. There was a puddle of drool on his pillow. Crowley thought it was one of the cutest things he’d ever seen. He definitely knew he needed to buy Aziraphale a better mattress.</p><p>Crowley pressed a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s temple before getting out of bed. He brewed a pot of coffee and filled the electric kettle so his angel could have a nice cup of tea. As he waited for his coffee to brew, Crowley looked up antique bookstores in the area. He knew how much Aziraphale loved books and thought it would be fun to take him on a little adventure. After all the emotional and spiritual energy Aziraphale had to use for the Transgender Day of Remembrance Vigil, Crowley wanted to bring some joy into his day.</p><p>In his search, Crowley stumbled across Ritzville, a lovely town about an hour away from Tadfield. It had numerous antique shops, diners that promised comfort food, and some cute boutiques. He normally wouldn’t want to visit a place like that, but it was right up Aziraphale’s alley. Crowley was sold on it as soon as he found the perfect antique bookseller. He had no doubt Aziraphale would love what they had to offer. Crowley made a quick call to the shop to set up a special appointment for the two of them to look at a specific group of rare books. The owner was hesitant at first. But when Crowley told her that he was interested in buying them and money wasn’t an obstacle, she penciled them in for an hour. She usually only allowed five minutes. Crowley couldn’t wait for Aziraphale to get up.</p><p>Aziraphale woke up in the late morning. He couldn’t believe he’d slept so long! The room was quite dark—Crowley always kept the shades drawn—but it was pleasant. And for the first time in years, Aziraphale didn’t wake up with a stiff back. He really needed to get a new mattress, but it was an expense he really couldn’t afford at the moment.</p><p>“Angel, tea’s ready ‘n got some snacks waiting for you!” Crowley shouted when he heard Aziraphale get out of bed.</p><p>“Coming!” He lit up when he heard Crowley’s voice. It hit him. He was in Crowley’s bed. They’d made out all night. Crowley was his <em>partner</em>. His darling, dear boy. All his to care for and cherish. Aziraphale truly felt that Crowley was an answer to a prayer he didn’t even know he’d been praying.</p><p>Aziraphale scurried out of the bedroom. He imagined he looked a mess, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he could see Crowley’s beautiful face again. Crowley came up to him and wrapped his long, lanky arms around him. He held Aziraphale tight and pressed a kiss to his angel’s forehead.</p><p>“Mornin’ dove. Drink your tea and have some biscuits. Takin’ you on an adventure and we’re getting lunch.”</p><p>Aziraphale wiggled in Crowley’s arms. “Ooh, what do you have planned, darling?”</p><p>“Mmm…Not tellin’. Boop!” Crowley teased and tapped Aziraphale on the nose. Aziraphale tried to pout, but he couldn’t stop smiling.</p><p> Crowley squeezed Aziraphale before letting go. “Gonna hop in the shower ‘n get ready. Take your time, we’re in no hurry. Shops are open ‘til late since it’s Saturday. But we have an appointment at once place at 3. Gives us plenty of time for lunch.”</p><p>“Ah, Crowley? Before you get ready, may I make a request?” Aziraphale asked shyly.</p><p>“‘Course. Any wish you have, I’ll grant.”</p><p>Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands in his. “Would you mind terribly if I requested you wear that lovely red sweater dress again? It’s just, well…I’ve grown rather attached to you wearing that. It’s become significant to me.”</p><p>It took Crowley a moment to register what Aziraphale was asking for. Why the sweater dress? Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p><p>Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s knuckles. “Oh yes, the day I was your knight in black armor. You got it, dove. Any shoe requests?”</p><p>“I love when you wear those black knee-high boots with the stiletto heels…They look so lovely with that dress,” Aziraphale blushed a deep shade of pink.</p><p>Crowley grinned. He loved when Aziraphale got flustered. “Y’know, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me when I dress femme. Can do that more, ‘f you like.”</p><p>“Dear boy, please do not change anything on my account. I adore you no matter how you dress, though you are right. I love the way you look when you wear more feminine attire. There is a confidence about you when you do. You’re ravishing, darling,” Aziraphale admitted.</p><p>“Actually prefer to dress femme, ‘f I’m being honest. A little surprised a gay man is into it when it’s not just performative. Not used to that, angel.”</p><p>“My sexuality includes genderfluid people, my dear. I have always been, oh, how they say, ‘weak in the ankles’ when people dress more feminine. Especially you, Crowley. Now get ready, darling. I’ll need to get myself around as soon as you’re finished.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Just as Aziraphale asked, Crowley wore his sweaterdress, knee-high boots, and black leggings. His hair was in a fishtail braid, and he was wearing a dark shade of lipstick. Aziraphale wore khaki slacks and a dark brown sweater with a white button up underneath. He had the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Crowley couldn’t help but run his fingertips up and down Aziraphale’s forearm from time to time as they drove to Ritzville. The course, white hair on his angel’s arm felt incredible. He couldn’t help but imagine how much hair Aziraphale had underneath all those layers…Crowley was quite glad he’d worn his gaff panties. Smart decision.</p><p>Crowley took Aziraphale to a diner within walking distance to the book shop. It was a cute place and had a 50s vibe to it. Crowley, of course, hated that time period for how horrible it was. But he couldn’t help but enjoy the aesthetics of it. Mostly because of Aziraphale’s reaction.</p><p>“How lovely, Crowley! I haven’t been to a place like this since I first arrived in the States. I do hope they have milkshakes. Perhaps we could split one if they do?” Aziraphale gave Crowley a flirtatious smile.</p><p>“Got you covered, dove. Checked this place out before I brought you here. They’ve got like twenty flavors. But angel, I get the cherry,” he flicked his tongue out suggestively, moving each side separately.</p><p>Aziraphale made some unintelligible sounds before Crowley took his hand and led him to a booth. The place was nearly packed full, but fortunately there was a booth in the back corner available. It was perfect. Gave a little privacy so he could give his angel his full, undivided attention.</p><p>“Crowley, lunch is on me today. I will not argue the matter. So do get whatever your heart desires. Now this may be the most important question in our relationship, my darling. What is your favorite flavor of milkshake?” Aziraphale asked after looking over the menu.</p><p>“Hmm…Make or break, angel?” Crowley smirked.</p><p>Aziraphale flashed a bastard grin. “Perhaps…”</p><p>“Well, milkshakes are usually too sweet for me, but when I want one I like to go with birthday cake. Not a lot of places have ‘em, but this one does,” he answered.</p><p>A confused look flashed on Aziraphale’s face. “Dear boy, I haven’t the slightest idea what a birthday cake tastes like.”</p><p>“Y’know, white cake with candy inside that looks like confetti? Sprinkles and stuff on top of it? Usually’s got a person’s name on it? Frosting’s so sweet that you get high after a bite?”</p><p>Aziraphale shook his head. “I’ve never had one, Crowley.”</p><p>“How in the bloody Some—” Crowley was cut off by the waiter.</p><p>“Hello sir and ma’am, what would you like today?” the waiter asked.</p><p>Crowley loved when people referred to him in a feminine way. On the days where he was dressed femme, it meant a lot to him. He had a future request for Aziraphale, but there were more important matters at hand. Like finding out how in the Someone Aziraphale had NEVER had birthday cake!</p><p>“Good afternoon, sir. I would like to have the meatloaf and mashed potatoes, please. Looks like a scrummy special,” Aziraphale said. “Darling, what would you like?”</p><p>“Burger ‘n fries. Get us a birthday cake milkshake. Two straws.  Want that to come out first. Extra whipped cream, one cherry. Hand me your menu, angel.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s menu and handed them both to the waiter.</p><p>“You got it! I’ll put this right in and get the milkshake out ASAP. My mama always said that dessert should be eaten first. Great choice! I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” he winked.</p><p>Crowley rolled his eyes at the waiter’s comment. Aziraphale giggled.</p><p>“Now, dove. Back to the matter at hand. How in the Go—Sata—Someone do you not know what a birthday cake tastes like?!”</p><p>Aziraphale’s smile faded some. “Well, Crowley, it’s because I’ve never had one.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I was raised not being permitted to celebrate it. In the Holy Logos denomination, birthdays are not to be celebrated or acknowledged. To pay special attention to ourselves is to downplay the importance of Jesus’ birth. In fact, we were not even permitted to decorate for Christmas or celebrate it in the way others have. No Christmas tree, no presents, nothing…And on Christmas Day, we stayed in church all day and sang hymns…My apologies, I digress. Let me get back to the birthdays. I was not permitted to attend any birthday parties or celebrate with friends.”</p><p>Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “But Aziraphale, you’re not in that denomination anymore. Haven’t been since ’85! You can’t tell me you’ve never celebrated your birthday or had a cake since then!”</p><p>Aziraphale shook his head. “Dear boy, I never had a reason to celebrate it. After Christopher passed I had friends, but none close enough where birthdays even came up. I’ve never been invited to a party either… My colleagues throw birthday parties for each other, but they have never celebrated mine. Bishop Gabriel always tells them that I do not want it acknowledged because of my beliefs. I have tried multiple times to explain that is how I was raised, but they do not listen to me,” he sighed.</p><p>“I always find out about their parties after the fact. During our pastor get-togethers, they always talk about how much fun they had. I used to try to tell them I would like to be invited, but I gave up. So, that is why I do not know what a birthday cake tastes like,” Aziraphale answered glumly.</p><p>Crowley frowned and reached out for Aziraphale’s hand. He interlaced their fingers. Aziraphale’s eyes were misty. It was clearly a sore subject.</p><p>“The other pastors are a bunch of wankers, angel. And that makes no bloody sense why anyone would think celebrating a birthday would take away from believing in Jesus or whatever…Now you were born in ’60, right?”</p><p>“Yes, dear boy.”</p><p>Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hands and grinned. “Well I know your birthday hasn’t come yet. Last time you mentioned your age you said you’re 59. When’s your 60<sup>th</sup>, dove?”</p><p>“Actually, that is a good question. What day is it?”</p><p>“November 21<sup>st</sup>,” Crowley answered.</p><p>“This year it’s on Thanksgiving, so the 26<sup>th</sup>, I believe. Now I must say, Thanksgiving has become a favorite of mine. All the pies, stuffing, turkey, candied yams with marshmallows…And as odd as it is, I have become rather fond of green bean casserole…” Aziraphale’s mouth watered a little as he thought of the upcoming holiday.</p><p>Crowley leaned over the table and surprised Aziraphale with a kiss. “Dove, I was already planning on asking if you wanted to have Thanksgiving with me. Love to cook for you. Looks like it’s going to be a birthday/Thanksgiving combo this year.”</p><p>Aziraphale blushed at the public display of affection. He never thought there would be a moment in his life where he’d be able experience something like this. It would take some getting used to, but he loved it. Knowing that Crowley <em>wanted </em>him and, in a way, <em>claimed </em>him in a busy restaurant was incredible.</p><p>“You don’t need to go through so much trouble for me, dear boy. But I must admit, I would love to celebrate my ‘first birthday’ with you. What can I expect?”</p><p>“Gonna be a surprise. Let me spoil you rotten, get you everything you’ve ever wanted. Like you wouldn’t let me buy you dinner, don’t deny me the chance to take care of you,” Crowley kissed him one last time before sitting back down.</p><p>It was perfect timing. The birthday cake shake came. Whoever made it was truly an artist. The whipped cream was piled high, the cherry carefully placed in the center. Crowley handed Aziraphale his straw, and they both put them in.</p><p>Before Aziraphale could take a sip, he watched Crowley take the cherry off and put it in his mouth, stem included. After swallowing the cherry, Crowley tied the stem with his tongue. He gently took it out of his mouth and licked his lips. Without thinking, Aziraphale put his hand out and Crowley put the stem in his hand.</p><p>“Dear boy…” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “You have quite a talented tongue.” He focused his attention on the stem and examined it. If they were a little further along in their relationship, Aziraphale would be dragging Crowley out of the restaurant. But he wanted to give it some time before they became physically intimate beyond kissing. Still, he did not want Crowley to stop his suggestive flirtation. It would fuel his fantasies until they became reality. He’d probably have to buy quite a few packs of gloves…</p><p>Crowley didn’t respond. Instead, he wrapped his lips around his straw suggestively and took a drink. “Mmm…C’mon angel. Try it. Might finish it myself if you don’t join me.”</p><p>It took a minute for Aziraphale to come back to reality. Watching Crowley was almost too much to bear. A drink would be a good distraction. They locked eyes when Aziraphale took his first drink. The burst of vanilla, little candies, and the taste of frosting was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. Aziraphale moaned around the straw at the taste.</p><p>“If this milkshake is so delightful, I can only imagine how scrumptious a real birthday cake will be,” Aziraphale beamed. The sight of Aziraphale’s pure joy felt like a ray of sunshine.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After a lovely lunch filled with flirtatious banter, Crowley and Aziraphale walked arm in arm to their next stop. Aziraphale froze when they reached the bookstore.</p><p>“Crowley, sometimes I wonder if you can read my mind. I’ve always wanted to come to T&amp; G Booksellers. They boast some of the oldest books in the world! Oh, what I would do to get my gloved hands on some of the older books…Did I ever tell you that something I enjoy doing when I have time is restoring old books? I’ve never been able to get my hands on any first editions due to costs, but I would give so much to at least touch one,” Aziraphale sighed at the thought.</p><p>Before Aziraphale could continue pining, Crowley dragged him into the shop. A woman around their age greeted them with a curt smile. She had short salt and pepper hair and wore a black pantsuit with a purple dress shirt.</p><p>“Crowley and Aziraphale, I presume?” she asked.</p><p>“You bet, Alexandria. Got ‘em ready for us? Angel here needs some of those fancy gloves you use to touch ‘em,” Crowley gestured to Aziraphale.</p><p>Aziraphale chimed in. “In my spare time I restore old books. They are not to the caliber of what you offer here, but I do know how to be delicate with them.”</p><p>Alexandria nodded. “I have them in the back. Follow me.”</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley followed Alexandria to a cozy room. There was a large table with seven books on it. It was clear to Aziraphale that they were hundreds of years old. He sat down and looked at them. Alexandria handed him the gloves, and Aziraphale had to steady himself before he could put them on. He was nearly vibrating with excitement.</p><p>“C-Crowley, do you know what we’re looking at right now?”</p><p>Crowley nodded before sitting next to Aziraphale. “Got a feeling you could tell me better’n I can tell you. We’ve got an hour. Show me.”</p><p>When Aziraphale’s attention was focused on the first book, Crowley carefully took his credit card from his purse. He made a discreet ‘come here’ motion to Alexandria. There was a note with the credit card:</p><p>
  <em>I’ll buy the three he likes best from you. Cost means nothing. I will be back to pick them up tomorrow morning at 9.</em>
</p><p>Alexandria nodded. She moved to stand across from Crowley and Aziraphale so she could observe them.</p><p>Aziraphale let out a squeal of excitement. “Oh, dear boy, do you know what treasures these are? The Infamous Bibles! I never thought I would ever lay my eyes on them. I heard about them in my Bible courses and I know the special contents of some of them, but…But I can’t believe you brought me here, Crowley.”</p><p>“The Discharge Bible, the Treacle Bible, the Standing Fishes Bible, the Charing Cross Bible…All incredible. But Crowley, I simply must tell you about these other three. Here is the Unrighteous Bible.” Aziraphale carefully turned to 1 Corinthians. “Here is the printer’s error in this Bible. Look right here, my darling. It says <em>‘know ye not that the unrighteous shall inherit the Kingdom of God?’</em> Can you believe it? The printer made quite the error, didn’t he?”</p><p>Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sounds like my kinda Bible, angel. What’s that one?” he pointed to the one next to it.</p><p>Aziraphale carefully closed the Unrighteous Bible and moved to the one Crowley was asking about. “This is the Wicked Bible. This one was printed in 1632, I believe. By Barker and Lucas. Is that correct, Ms. Alexandria?” Aziraphale looked up and asked.</p><p>Alexandria nodded ‘yes.’</p><p>“Now here, Crowley. Let us look at the ten commandments,” Aziraphale turned to the proper place. “See, the word ‘not’ was omitted from the seventh commandment here. It says <em>‘Thou shalt commit Adultery!’</em>” Aziraphale burst out laughing. It was a hearty, precious laugh. Crowley couldn’t help but follow suit.</p><p>After he’d calmed down some, Aziraphale reached out for the Bible he most prized. He let out an audible gasp as his gloved fingers ran across the cover. “Oh, my darling. This one is most incredible…This one is called the Buggre All This Bible. Now in here, there are two things worth noting. This Bible gets its name because of Ezekiel, chapter 48, verse 5. Let me read it to you:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Buggre Alle this for a Larke. I amme sick to mye Hart of typefettinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges noe more than a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne day laike this Ennyone with half an oz. of Sense shoulde bee oute in the Sunneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the liuelong daie inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe. @ *“Æ@;!*”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley listened to Aziraphale and watched how animated he became when he spoke. The knowledge that Aziraphale possessed astounded him. Something he’d never even seen before, and yet he knew where all the important bits were. He also discovered that Aziraphale had a real knack for reading out loud. Crowley made a note to himself to request that Aziraphale read him to sleep sometime.</p><p>“Oh how fun these mistakes are! But my favorite out of everything comes from Genesis. In the Buggre All This Bible, Genesis chapter 3 has 27 verses instead of 24. You absolutely must hear this one! We’ll start with verse 24:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life. And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the eastern gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee? And the Angel said, I had it here only a moment ago, I must have put it down some where, forget my own head next. And the Lord did not ask him again.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Can you imagine that, Crowley? Who would’ve thought to add something like this!”</p><p>Crowley put his arm around Aziraphale and kissed his temple. “Yeah, angel. Who would’ve thought?”</p><p>As Aziraphale continued to pour over the other Bibles, Crowley took out an old receipt and pen from his purse. He wrote down the Buggre All This Bible, the Unrighteous Bible, and the Wicked Bible. When their time was up, Crowley handed the slip of paper to Alexandria. Aziraphale was none the wiser.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some of y'all may have noticed the Good Omens Book reference! For those who may not have, all of the Bibles that are mentioned come from the book. It was one of my favorite parts of the book and I just HAD to add it! They are mentioned on page 44 on my Kindle version. The last reference (Genesis 3:24-27) is located on page 388 on my Kindle version.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love all of you so much. Your support and excitement about this story have been affirming and an absolute blessing. Your comments have gotten me through some hard days. Please know how important your words are to me &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley drove Aziraphale back to his apartment. He didn’t want to take him home, but Aziraphale needed some time to look over his sermon and make any last-minute revisions. He’d written it during the week—unusual for him, but necessary due to the Vigil—but still wanted to make sure everything made sense. All of his energy had gone into preparing for the deeply emotional event, after all. For once, Aziraphale was quite thankful that Gabriel chose the scripture for him.</p><p>Aziraphale unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned close to Crowley. Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a warm intensity that Crowley never experienced before. No one had ever looked at Crowley as more than a being of lust. There had never been softness, love, or affection in the eyes of others. It almost brought Crowley to tears to feel genuine care and adoration that went beyond his appearance. Crowley knew he was the luckiest person alive, and he wouldn’t take Aziraphale for granted.</p><p>“Crowley, thank you for such a wonderful night and day. I cannot recall the last time someone has made me so happy. You’re a treasure, my darling.” Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face and kissed him.</p><p>Crowley melted into the kiss. If he had his way, they’d spend all night kissing in the Bentley. If Heaven was real he hoped that it would feel like the soft, plump lips of his beloved.</p><p>Aziraphale broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together.</p><p>Crowley spoke softly. “Get some rest, angel. Me ‘n the Bentley will be waiting outside the church ‘round noon. Mine or yours tomorrow?”</p><p>“Mine, if that’s amenable. I would like to make us a nice lunch. It will not…Be quite as lovely as your cooking, but all the same I would like to return your kindness.”</p><p>Crowley gently pulled Aziraphale into his arms. “I’d love that, dove. Now if you don’t leave now, I’m kidnapping you and taking you back to the cottage. Your flock will have to spend a Sunday without their pastor,” he teased.</p><p>Aziraphale giggled. “Well, I would willingly go with you, dear boy. Though the thought is rather thrilling. May I have one last kiss before I say goodnight?”</p><p>“You can have anything. Give you the stars if you want ‘em.”</p><p>Crowley’s lips met Aziraphale’s with a gentleness he never believed he’d get to have. Before Aziraphale, every kiss felt filthy and lurid. He’d brush his teeth multiple times and nearly choke himself on mouthwash to rid himself of the taste of another person’s mouth. In the past, he’d cry himself to sleep sometimes, knowing that he’d given a part of himself that he didn’t want anyone to have. The sex hadn’t bothered him much but kissing just seemed…Precious and intimate. And he’d given it away to people who didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve him.</p><p>But now those days were decades behind him. He finally was with someone that adored him. Would treasure him. Someone who would treat him the way no one ever had. When Aziraphale broke the kiss and left the Bentley, Crowley brought his fingers up to his lips. The touch was electric after the bliss he’d experienced. Everything felt right. For the first time in his life, Crowley felt truly safe with someone. He thanked Someone, whoever or whatever that may be, for Aziraphale coming into his life.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale felt giddy beyond words. He wiggled as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. Crowley was his <em>partner. </em>They could kiss now! He could officially call their outings dates! While he and Crowley had been affectionate towards one another since the beginning of their friendship, Aziraphale was overjoyed that it took on a new meaning now. He still couldn’t believe that he’d had the courage to make the first move. It wasn’t something that Aziraphale would’ve done in the past. But he wasn’t afraid of Crowley. He felt safe with him. Even with their spiritual differences, Aziraphale felt understood and seen. Crowley accepted him just as he was.</p><p>With a big smile, Aziraphale went into his bedroom. He carefully removed his newest gift from the paper bag it was in. Aziraphale unfolded it and looked at it in adoration. Crowley had purchased Aziraphale a new quilt. It was at a boutique where all the proceeds went to help LGBTQ+ teens in need. The pattern was the transgender flag in the shape of hearts in white squares. The border was blue and pink. Aziraphale wanted to buy it for himself, but Crowley wouldn’t let him. It was their day together that helped Aziraphale better understand Crowley. Giving gifts and acts of services—like offering to give him rides, cooking for him—was how he showed he cared. Aziraphale loved that about Crowley, though he felt a little guilty that he couldn’t give him much of the way of presents. Pastor’s salary, after all. But Crowley seemed to respond well to Aziraphale’s words of affirmation and physical touch. And luckily for both, they adored good quality time together no matter what they were doing. Aziraphale was a lucky man indeed.</p><p>Aziraphale looked at the clock and was surprised to see that it was nearing nine at night. He remembered the shop he’d needed to visit today would still be open for another hour, but he needed to get moving now if he’d make it in time. As he stepped out the door, his phone buzzed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Angel,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Made it home safe. Only did 80 this time. You’ll kick ass at your sermon tomorrow. Dunno what it’s about but I’m sure anything you write’s a knockout. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dear Boy</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale hugged the phone close to his chest before responding.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Dear Boy,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You’ve an awful lot of faith in me. But I do appreciate it. And perhaps someday I may be able to convince you to… Oh, perhaps drive the speed limit? Goodnight, my darling. Sleep well, and I look forward to my chariot and its handsome driver awaiting me tomorrow afternoon.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your Angel</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He put his phone away and walked as fast as his legs could carry him. The shop was about a twenty-minute walk from his place, and he couldn’t dawdle. Aziraphale felt a little guilty cutting it so close to closing time, but he knew exactly what he needed. With an apologetic smile, Aziraphale entered Lamps and Lights.</p><p>“Evening, sir. What can I do for you?” the clerk smiled. Much to Aziraphale’s surprise, it was not forced. She seemed genuinely happy to see him.</p><p>“Ah, yes. I heard that you have lightbulbs specifically for people with significant photosensitivity. Am I correct?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>She beamed. “Yes! Not many people ask for them, so we keep them in the back. They’re hard to find, and I insisted that we carry them. Someone in your life need them?”</p><p>In fact, he did have someone in his life. A very special someone. “Yes, my partner has an eye injury that caused permanent photosensitivity. I want him to be able to feel comfortable in my apartment when he visits. He has to wear sunglasses everywhere he goes, and I do not want my home to cause him discomfort.”</p><p>“Reminds me of my partner and I. My girl’s really sensitive to light too,” she smiled. “We’re lucky to have them and we need to show it by making things accessible! C’mon, let me help you find the right ones.”</p><p>Aziraphale followed the woman to the backroom. Much to his surprise, there were several varieties. He wasn’t concerned about the price…Well, maybe a little. But Crowley’s comfort and wellbeing were more important. She took one of each and put them in a lamp sitting on a table near the bulbs. Aziraphale would turn off the overhead light to see what each one was like. The dimmest one looked to be the closest to the lighting in Crowley’s cottage.</p><p>“How many do you need? Fortunately these last a long time. Makes up for the cost,” she said.</p><p>Aziraphale did the math in his head. “I would like to purchase eight, please. Thank you…” Aziraphale read her name tag, “Miss Ann. I deeply appreciate your willingness to help at such a late hour. I do apologize for coming in so late.”</p><p>She waved her hand. “It’s no problem! People like you are why I like working here.”</p><p>They were silent for a while as she rang up his items. Aziraphale grimaced when he saw the cost, but his paycheck was coming soon so he’d be able to make the full payment on his credit card then. “What’s your name, sir?”</p><p>“Aziraphale,” he answered as he took his bag from Ann’s hands.</p><p>“It’s been a joy having you here tonight, Aziraphale. If you ever need any advice or tips on how to make things better for your partner, drop by any time!”</p><p>He nodded in appreciation and took off for home. As soon as he got home, Aziraphale carefully replaced each of the bulbs in his home. He kept the old ones—he knew he’d want brighter light in the evenings when Crowley wasn’t there—but it made Aziraphale feel great that his apartment would be more welcoming to Crowley. And, a little selfishly, Aziraphale would get to see his beautiful eyes. By the time he had everything in place for Crowley’s arrival tomorrow, he decided to head straight for bed. The sermon would be what it would be. He didn’t even remember what it was about, if he were being honest with himself. Aziraphale would trust that it was what someone needed to hear, and that Crowley’s assessment of his skills was correct.</p><p>Aziraphale wrapped himself up in his brand-new quilt and tried to fall asleep, but his mind was filled with thoughts of Crowley. He imagined Crowley in his bed with his clothes off. He wanted Crowley on top of him, kissing him with wild abandon. He fantasized about the way Crowley would feel inside of him, the way they would move together. A strong wave of arousal washed over Aziraphale, and he reached for a glove and some lube. He had a feeling he’d be touching himself more than sleeping tonight, and that thought was just fine by him.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley woke up way earlier than he wanted to, but he had a lot of shit to get done before he could pick up his sweet angel. Grocery shopping, picking up party supplies, ordering a birthday cake from Aziraphale’s favorite bakery, buying those Bibles. He hated early mornings, but he loved Aziraphale. And his desire to make Aziraphale happy and give him the best birthday of his life far outweighed his desire for sleep.</p><p>He decided on a masc look today. He wore his hair in a low ponytail and put on square sunglasses. He wore tight black denim jeans, a black blazer, and a dark gray turtleneck underneath. But, as always, Crowley couldn’t help but wear black stilettos. Heels had only become part of his wardrobe in the past ten years. He only recently came to fully embrace his gender fluidity, and heels were the first step towards accepting himself. And it took a few years before he was comfortable dressing more femme. He loved how much Aziraphale embraced and accepted him no matter what he was wearing. Though Aziraphale’s particular attraction to Crowley dressing more femme was making him realize some things about himself that he wasn’t sure how to ask Aziraphale for.</p><p>But those thoughts had to wait. He’d talk with Aziraphale about them that afternoon. He needed to get moving. His first stop was the grocery store. He’d given himself plenty of time to get in, get out, and drive to Ritzville to get the Bibles. Crowley picked up all the fixings: turkey breasts, yams, stuff for green bean casserole, stuffing, gravy, cranberry relish, rolls. He hated green bean casserole, but he’d make it for Aziraphale’s sake. Crowley thought about picking up a pie, but decided against it. They’d be having a diabetes inducing birthday cake and ice cream. Pie could wait for another time. The thought of pie made Crowley’s mind wander to places it shouldn’t, however, so he quickly shifted his attention towards his next task.</p><p>Crowley rushed home, dropped off the groceries, and raced to Blue Sky Bakery. He was not pleased to see so many people in line in front of him. Everyone was ordering donuts for some reason, and they were dressed in nicer clothes. It took Crowley a few minutes to figure it out, and he smacked his forehead. Churchy people getting donuts to share during their social time or whatever they called it. Crowley couldn’t help but get up to a little mischief when he realized that. Plus, goading the person in front of him might make her leave. And that would be a great thing indeed.</p><p>He tapped the elderly woman in front of him on the shoulder. She turned around, looked him up and down, and scowled. “What do <em>you </em>want?” she huffed.</p><p>“Isn’t there some part of the Bible that says ‘thou shalt not bring donuts into church because they’re tempting people to sin?’ Looks to me that you’re pleasing Satan this morning…” Crowley sneered.</p><p>She puffed up in agitation. “N-no, he, she, <em>whatever </em>you are! Never would I tempt people into a lifetime of sin!”</p><p>He continued on. “Well, gluttony’s a cardinal sin. And you don’t see Jesus giving people donuts and coffee cakes, now do you? You might want to think about just what kind of message you’re sending when you bring dozens of sweets to church… Aren’t you Christians all about abstaining from Earthly pleasures? Or does it only matter during Lent?”</p><p>The woman’s face turned red and she knit her eyebrows in anger. “Why I—”</p><p>Crowley cut her off. “Or is this a way of tempting people to come to your church. Bribe them with food so they’ll waste their time with your lot. The dogma’s shite but the donuts are fine…That your motto?”</p><p>“You disgusting…<em>thing</em>! If anyone needs church, it’s you!” the woman smacked Crowley with her purse and stormed out of the bakery.</p><p>Everything went quiet and everyone stared at Crowley. He gave them a cheeky grin. He gave no explanation as to what just happened. His mischief meter was full for the day, and that’s all that mattered to him. After a few moments of silence, the pace picked back up, and soon he was at the front of the line.</p><p>“You do birthday cakes, right? Y’know, those round, sickly sweet white ones with that confetti stuff inside and a cheesy message written on top?” Crowley asked.</p><p>The baker nodded and pulled out a small booklet. He flipped through it and pointed. “Like this, right?”</p><p>Crowley nodded in affirmation.</p><p>“What do you want written on it?”</p><p>“Happy 60<sup>th</sup>, my angel,” Crowley answered.</p><p>The baker sighed. “Definitely fits the sickly-sweet theme you’re talkin’ about. It’ll be ready Wednesday morning.”</p><p>The trip to the bakery took far longer than he’d anticipated, so he stepped on the gas and sped his way to Ritzville. Alexandria was clearly the prompt type, and Crowley knew he needed to respect that. Not for his sake, but for Aziraphale’s. He knew his angel would want to come back someday, and he didn’t want to ruin it.</p><p>When Crowley arrived, Alexandria was just opening shop. She opened the door and let Crowley in. She led him to the register and gently placed the books, pristinely wrapped, on the counter.</p><p>“You’re sure about this? I wrote down your card information but didn’t swipe it yet. It’s going to cost you a little over $60,000…Could just sell you the cheapest of the three if you want,” she said.</p><p>Crowley chuckled. “That’s all? I may not look it, Alexandria, but I’m good for it. Worked for Big Pharma and I’m a published author. Money’s not an issue to get Aziraphale what he wants,” he pulled out his credit card and handed it to her.</p><p>She shrugged her shoulders and ran his card. Much to her joy the purchase was approved. “I wouldn’t have sold you these if I hadn’t watched your boyfriend handle them with so much reverence. Should any rare Christian texts come my way, you both will be the first to know.”</p><p>“We’d like that,” he reached out his hand, and she shook it.</p><p>After Crowley ran back home to place to Bibles on the desk in the bedroom, Crowley rushed to the party store.</p><p>He brought a checklist with him for this visit: party hats, a banner, balloons, a 6 candle and a 0 candle. Crowley wasn’t sure which route to take. His first instinct was to get the “Over the Hill” balloons and banner, but Crowley had a feeling that Aziraphale a) wouldn’t get it or b) would be insulted. So he went the queer route instead. Crowley got balloons of all shapes: unicorns, rainbows, hearts (all pastel colors), and cute ones that said Happy Birthday! He found a cute banner with clouds and rainbows all over it and went with that. He was most proud of the party hats. Crowley found the stereotypical cone shaped ones with the elastic strap. They had a pastel rainbow design—perfect for his precious pansy. For good measure, Crowley bought some confetti and party horns. Dammit, Aziraphale was going to get the birthday he always deserved.</p><p>The cashier said “ooh” and “aww” at each thing she swiped. “Aww, is it your daughter’s sixth birthday?”</p><p>Crowley shook his head. “No, it’s my boyfriend’s sixtieth.”</p><p>She looked at him and started to giggle. “Well, your boyfriend is going to have a birthday he’ll never forget!”</p><p>“That’s the plan, ma’am.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As promised, Crowley was waiting in the Bentley for Aziraphale at noon. Aziraphale gave Crowley a cute little wave and scurried over. When he got in the car, Aziraphale took Crowley’s appearance in. Handsome and beautiful as ever, though he looked a little tired.</p><p>“Darling, are you okay? You look rather fatigued,” he asked.</p><p>Crowley gently grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and kissed it. “Went to the store before I came. Wanted to make sure I picked up everything for Thanksgiving. Y’know how dangerous waiting ‘til the last minute is during the holidays. Wouldn’t want to end up in jail,” Crowley smirked.</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh, Crowley. What am I do to with you?”</p><p>“A lot of things. Walks in the park, watching movies, making me the lunch you promised…Endless possibilities!”</p><p>“You foul fiend,” Aziraphale teased before pressing a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “Let’s get a wiggle on, dear. Feel free to nap while I make us a scrummy lunch.”</p><p>Crowley did just that. He crawled into Aziraphale’s bed and smiled when he found his angel had slept with the quilt he’d bought him. Crowley could smell lavender and chamomile on Aziraphale’s pillows. He took a deep breath and sighed in contentment; he loved that Aziraphale went for floral scents. As Crowley sunk into the pillows, he happened to glance at the bedside table. He saw a box of gloves, a bottle of lube, and a glove that appeared used. Crowley, curious as he was, quietly opened the bedside table’s drawer and peeked inside. He was pleased to find a variety of toys and a box of condoms. Crowley knew Aziraphale enjoyed kissing and had sex with Christopher in the past but didn’t know if Aziraphale had such desires anymore. Looked like those questions were answered now. When he sensed the time was right, Crowley would broach the topic with Aziraphale. He imagined it was too soon for his angel and wanted to respect the boundary, move as slow as his beloved needed. And he wanted, for the first time in his life, to actually enjoy the experience. Crowley carefully closed the drawer, resolved to say nothing about the items, and drifted to sleep.</p><p>As Aziraphale was putting the lasagna in the oven, he was hit with a horrible realization. In his post orgasm haze, he’d forgotten to clean up. He said a prayer that Crowley wouldn’t be disturbed by it. There wasn’t anything he could do about it now, after all. On the bright side, perhaps it would open the door for them to have a conversation about intimacy. Aziraphale did want to wait a while, yet at the same time he was nearly sixty and life was too short to not enjoy pleasure with his partner. But he’d prefer to wait for Crowley to start the conversation. It would happen when it happened.</p><p>After an hour, the lasagna was ready, the leftover bread from communion was in a basket on the table, and he’d prepared a nice salad to accompany the meal. He made them each a plate before going to wake Crowley. Aziraphale quietly opened the bedroom door and found Crowley out like a light. Careful not to disturb him, Aziraphale threw away the used glove and quietly put the lube and box of gloves back in the drawer. Once the evidence of last night’s arousal was cleared away, Aziraphale crawled onto the bed and wrapped his arm around Crowley.</p><p>“Mmm…What time izzit?” Crowley mumbled.</p><p>“Time for the scrummy lunch I promised you, dear boy. Up you get, we’ll have plenty of time to lounge about once we’ve filled our tummies,” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley, kissed the back of his head, and got off the bed.</p><p>Crowley grumbled, but as soon as the smell of lasagna hit him he decided that lunch was worth waking up for. Aziraphale poured them each a glass of a passable red and handed it to Crowley. They both sat down, and they clinked their glasses together in celebration of a lovely afternoon.</p><p>When Crowley reached into the bread basket, he was surprised that portions of the slices were missing chunks. He couldn’t help but laugh when he realized what Aziraphale had done.</p><p>“Really, angel? The Body of Christ with Italian food? Do you <em>want </em>me to burst into flames?”</p><p>Aziraphale blushed. “He <em>has </em>to be eaten, Crowley! I can’t just throw Jesus in the trash! Once the bread’s been blessed all of it has to be consumed. And…Well, I overestimated how many people would be at church this Sunday, so I had too much left,” he said apologetically.</p><p>Crowley didn’t believe it was anything other than plain old bread, but it was funny the way Aziraphale repurposed it. He grabbed a piece and shoved it in his mouth. He gave Aziraphale two thumbs up, and his angel blushed even more.</p><p>Crowley swallowed. “Christ lives in me now, I guess.”</p><p>Aziraphale put his head in his hands. He was both embarrassed and terribly amused. “Yes he does, Crowley. He lives in all of us. Especially now that you’ve tasted him.”</p><p>“Maybe this Christian stuff isn’t so bad if the communion bread’s this good,” he popped another piece in his mouth.</p><p>“My incorrigible darling,” Aziraphale sighed.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley relaxed on the couch. Crowley napped on and off, his head comfortably resting in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale was reading a theological book on the nature of suffering and God’s place within it. A few of his congregants had been struggling, and Aziraphale was looking for a helpful resource with helpful, rather than hurtful, theology. Crowley was curious and wanted to know more about it, but he was far too tired to question Aziraphale to death. Getting everything perfect for Thursday had been hard work. He was content to bask in Aziraphale’s soft, plush warmth.</p><p>When the evening came, Crowley noticed that everything in the apartment seemed darker than usual. He slowly sat up and looked around.</p><p>“Uh, Aziraphale? Did the power go out or something?”</p><p>Aziraphale set his book down and looked at Crowley. “No. Why do you ask?”</p><p>“‘S dark in here. Like my cottage.” He took off his sunglasses and was surprised that his eyes didn’t hurt. Sure, he couldn’t see worth a damn—he had a high prescription—but his eyes felt great. “Did you—”</p><p>Aziraphale interrupted and pulled him into an embrace. “Well, this is something I have been wanting to do since I learned of your eye condition. It took me some time to research, but with a kind woman’s help I was able to find the correct lightbulbs. Now when you come over, you can wear your regular prescription eyewear rather than your sunglasses. I want my apartment to be a comfortable and safe place for you, Crowley. I hope I got this ri—”</p><p>Crowley cut Aziraphale off with a kiss. No one had ever thought enough of Crowley to consider his comfort. People like Hastur and Ligur used it as a weapon against him. His old classmates made fun of him for his mistake with the Wild Hogweed. Others just thought Crowley was some mysterious bastard (that was, in part, true). But Aziraphale took Crowley’s photosensitivity seriously and treated it with compassion. He spent time researching. He bought the right bulbs to light the entire apartment. Crowley knew how expensive they were, and he hoped the cost hadn’t put Aziraphale out too much. If there was any ounce of doubt that Crowley was madly, hopelessly, and deeply in love with Aziraphale, it was all gone now.</p><p>“More’n right, angel. Perfect,” Crowley kissed Aziraphale on the nose.</p><p>“Oh, dear boy. I adore you so, so much. Anything to make you feel comfortable, I shall do for you,” Aziraphale kissed Crowley again.</p><p>At the words “dear boy,” Crowley remembered the thoughts he’d been having for a while now. That endearment fit today. But as Crowley was able to be more and more himself with Aziraphale, he knew he had to ask for what he needed. Aziraphale had said on their first outing together that he would be open if anything changed for Crowley. He knew in his heart now that Aziraphale meant what he said.</p><p>“Angel, there’s somethin’ I want to talk to you about. Not bad, promise. Remember back when we first met and went out for sushi?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled warmly. “How could I forget such a delightful day? And how could I forget you trying to get a rise out of me by talking with your mouth full?” he teased.</p><p>Aziraphale noticed that Crowley’s facial expression was serious, and he adjusted his accordingly.</p><p>Crowley rubbed the back of his head. “Dove, ever since I met you ‘ve been able to be more myself. You know I’m genderfluid ‘n all that. Guess before you came into my life I felt like I could only ask for he/him pronouns ‘cause that’s how I was born. But when we go out and I’m dressed femme and people use she/her, I feel great. And when you said that your sexuality includes genderfluid people like me, just helped me see what I need. So angel, on my femme days, I want you to use she/her pronouns and call me “dear girl.” When I look like this, “dear boy” is perfect and I want you to use he/him pronouns.”</p><p>“Absolutely, my darling. Heavens knows I understand the importance of pronouns. Any pronouns you use are valid. Thank you for telling me what you need, Crowley. And should you decide on some days that you would like me to use they/them and, ah, ‘dear partner’ I shall honor those pronouns too. When we text, will you tell me what pronouns you are using? I respect you just as you are, and even when I do not get to see you in person I want to make sure I am thinking of you and referring to you as you feel on each given day,” Aziraphale said in a soft, affirming tone.</p><p>Crowley rationally knew that Aziraphale accepted him for who he was, but emotionally it hit him hard. The deep parts of Crowley that told him he was worthless, unimportant, unlovable were screaming with the intensity of Aziraphale’s acceptance. He felt like he was being broken open, all the dark places within him facing the bright, shining light of the sun. Tears welled in Crowley’s eyes. He tried, but failed, to keep from shedding them.</p><p>Aziraphale took Crowley’s face in his hands and wiped away Crowley’s tears with his thumbs. “You are so beautiful, my dear boy. I cherish you, my dear girl. I am blessed beyond measure to have you, my dear partner. You are perfect as you are. Thank you for telling me what you need to feel seen.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Things between Aziraphale and Crowley had already been going well, but Crowley felt much freer after their conversation. They texted and talked on the phone every day that week. Aziraphale would prompt Crowley on what pronouns he was using that day. Crowley hadn’t yet asked Aziraphale to use she/her. But now that Thursday was here, the day of Aziraphale’s “first” birthday and Thanksgiving, Crowley felt it was the right time.</p><p>Besides a delightful Thanksgiving dinner, birthday party, and presents, Crowley wanted to look sexy for her angel. Of course she knew that Aziraphale always thought she was sexy, but today was special. Crowley wore a knee length dress. It had long sleeves and was off-the-shoulder. The dress was maroon to black ombre. She paired it with black ankle boots, butterfly shades, a black choker with a heart clasp in the front, and maroon lipstick. She parted her hair to the side and let it flow down her shoulders.</p><p>After her outfit was complete, she took one last look around the cottage. Satisfied with her decorating skills, Crowley tore out of her driveway to pick up Aziraphale.</p><p>Aziraphale was waiting on the curb for Crowley. He had a large duffel bag packed for the weekend. They’d decided that Aziraphale would spend the entire weekend at the cottage. He would still have to write his sermon on Saturday, but Crowley didn’t mind. They had also agreed that when Aziraphale was working on it that they would not discuss the Bible or the sermon’s subject matter. Aziraphale still had reservations about sharing that part of his work with Crowley after what had happened. Crowley understood and agreed that it was for the best.</p><p>“Get in, angel! Your birthday candles aren’t going to blow themselves out, y’know!” Crowley hollered. She took in the sight of her voluptuous darling as he approached the car. He was wearing a white sweater with the words “Birthday Boy” on it and his usual brown slacks.</p><p>Aziraphale got in the car and his jaw dropped at the sight of his partner. “Oh dear girl, you look absolutely stunning. W-well, you always do, but…Is this my gift?”</p><p>She squeezed his thigh. “One of your gifts, angel. You’ve got a few more waiting for you.”</p><p>Crowley took Aziraphale by the hand and led him into the cottage. She gently pushed him in front of her so he could take in his surprise. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he gasped when he saw what was waiting for him. Balloons were everywhere. They were touching the ceiling and tied to the furniture. It reminded Aziraphale of the checkout line at Dollar Daisy, where tons of foil balloons were waiting for someone to take them home. A large birthday banner greeted him. When he looked over at the dining room table, Aziraphale saw his birthday cake. The cake had a 6 candle and a 0 candle in it. It looked perfect, just like Crowley had described on their Saturday date. Before Aziraphale could process everything, he felt Crowley put a party hat on his head.</p><p>She put her own party hat on and wrapped her arms around Aziraphale. “Happy birthday, dove. Ready for your cake?”</p><p>Aziraphale was at a loss for words. He thought they would just have some cake and Crowley would sing him the birthday song. This was above and beyond his wildest dreams. Crowley kissed him on the cheek and shooed him over to the table.</p><p>“Lemme get a match angel. ‘F you don’t blow out your candles, you don’t get to make a wish!” she grabbed the box from the kitchen, came back, and lit both candles.</p><p>“What do you mean a wish, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, a puzzled look crossing his face.</p><p>“Oh, ‘course. You’ve never done this. You make a wish for something you want this year and then you blow out your candles. But I gotta sing to you first before you can do that… Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday Daddy ‘ziraphale! Happy birthday to you! Now make a wish and blow!”</p><p>Aziraphale wished for his 60<sup>th</sup> year to be filled with new experiences with Crowley. When he blew out the candles, he felt confetti rain over him. Aziraphale was filled to the brim with joy and excitement. He felt special, cared for, cherished. Aziraphale was glad that he’d never celebrated his birthday before, because Crowley’s plans far surpassed anything anyone else could have done. It was perfect.</p><p>“Now before you have your cake, angel, got you some birthday gifts. Need you to come with me to the bedroom, that’s where they are. Don’t want to get food on ‘em,” she said.</p><p>Aziraphale followed her to the bedroom, and Crowley motioned for him to take a seat at the desk. He did as she asked. Waiting for him were three beautifully wrapped gifts. They were square and looked to be on the heavy side.</p><p>“Be careful opening them, dove,” she whispered into his ear. Her sweet, low voice sent a shiver down his spine.</p><p>He nodded in acknowledgment. With shaking hands, Aziraphale carefully opened his gifts. When he saw the three Bibles, it felt as though the wind was knocked out of him. How did Crowley get them? Was it even possible to buy them? If so, how could he afford them? How could he ever make up for such an extravagant gift?</p><p>Crowley wrapped her arms around Aziraphale and rested her chin on his head. “To answer your questions that I know are bubbling ‘round in your head. Took you to the bookshop ‘cause I had a feeling you’d love it, ‘n I knew they had a great Bible collection. Watched for your reactions and bought the three that you were the most excited about. They are the very ones you got to touch, and Alexandria was willing to sell if she knew they were going to someone who knew how to care from them. And if you’re wondering ‘bout cost, remember that I’m a bestselling author and made bank in my previous work. And I’m doing this because I lo—uhh…Care about you a lot. This is my way of showin’ it.”</p><p>Aziraphale leaned back into Crowley’s embrace. “Thank you for one of the best days of my life, dear girl. I cannot wait to dive into these at a later date. Now I think it’s time for some birthday cake. As lovely as that shake was the other day, I have a feeling that this will far surpass it.”</p><p>Crowley purred. Her gifts were accepted, her angel was in her arms, and they were warm and cozy in her cottage. She couldn’t imagine wanting anything or anyone other than Aziraphale for the rest of her life.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In future chapters, Crowley's pronouns will shift, just as they did in this chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Dysphoria, talk of physical and sexual violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley and Aziraphale ended up on the couch, as they always did in the evenings. They changed into their comfy clothes. She was wearing Aziraphale’s blue sweater (it had become a favorite of hers) and boy shorts. Aziraphale kept his birthday boy sweater on but changed into some brown tartan sleep pants. He was eating another slice of birthday cake, and Crowley had her arm around his shoulder. They were snuggled up in a blanket. There was some show on for light background noise. Aziraphale had no idea what it was, but it appeared to be four older women who bickered back and forth.</p><p>Occasionally Aziraphale would pull on his sweater because it tended to cling to his chest a bit more than he was comfortable with. In previous nights together, Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind as much. But since their relationship started, Aziraphale seemed more bothered by his chest. She also noticed that Aziraphale was beginning to struggle with wearing a binder for extended periods of time. Sometimes his breath was a little short. She knew that was the cause, because as soon as Aziraphale took it off he was just fine. Crowley was growing concerned.</p><p>“Angel, can I ask you somethin’?”</p><p>Aziraphale looked at her and nodded. “You can ask me anything, dear girl.”</p><p>Crowley squeezed Aziraphale and he let out a soft noise of contentment.</p><p>“So, ‘ve noticed that you seem more…Self-conscious about your chest ‘round me lately. And you’re kind of struggling to breathe sometimes when you’re wearing your binder. What’s wrong, dove?”</p><p>Aziraphale finished up his cake and put the plate on the coffee table. He took a deep breath and sighed. He’d hoped Crowley hadn’t noticed. He didn’t want to seem like he was complaining or there was a problem. But Crowley was right. The binder was almost unbearable, and so was the dysphoria. Being in a relationship was reminding him of how desperately he wanted top surgery.</p><p>He worried at his lip. “Well…You are right, Crowley. I’ve started wearing an older one the past two weeks. It’s a size too small.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Aziraphale looked away from Crowley, but she wasn’t having it. She gently touched his chin and turned his head to face her. The look in Crowley’s eyes was kind and filled with concern. It touched Aziraphale to see that she cared.</p><p>“Crowley, I have struggled with dysphoria about my chest for quite some time now. And I started wearing this one again when we’re together because I want to feel like the man I am. I hate them, and there is nothing I can do to alleviate the situation. I thought wearing one that was tighter would take away the feelings, but it has only made them worse. I know it isn’t healthy to trade comfort for more compression, dear girl. But there is this voice in my head that won’t leave. It keeps telling me that if you see them…If anyone sees them…Then I’ll be less of a man in everyone’s eyes. Even yours,” Aziraphale sighed.</p><p>Crowley brought Aziraphale to her chest and kissed his forehead. “I know I don’t have dysphoria like you do, dove. But I get not feeling like people see you as who you are. Been struggling with that as a genderfluid person… ‘Nough about me though. Your chest will never make me see you as anything other than a man, angel. You ARE a man, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Anyone says different they’re full of shite and deserve a hard kick in the bullocks…Ever think about surgery?” she asked and immediately regretted the slip up. “Sorry, shouldn’t have asked that. Ignore me.”</p><p>“Oh no, darling, it’s quite alright. I’ve no discomfort talking about surgical procedures with you. I know that in a way you understand. I have been saving up for the past few years. Unfortunately, the Stockplace insurance that I can afford does not believe that top surgery should be covered. But the good news is that I’m almost to the seven thousand dollars I need. There is a doctor in Tadfield that works with transgender men and women and performs gender affirming surgeries. Doctor Marsha Rivera. She is quite brilliant, and her work is impeccable. I have already had a few conversations and consultations with her. As soon as I finish saving up, she will book me for the first available surgery date,” Aziraphale answered. His voice took on a hopeful tone.</p><p>“How much do you need? To make your dream come true?” she asked.</p><p>Aziraphale looked down and fidgeted with his hands. “I only need one thousand dollars, and I should have it saved up by June or July, permitted nothing happens that I have to take funds from that savings account. But dear girl, if you are thinking about helping me, please don’t worry about it. You have already done so much for me…You bought me the Bibles I’ve always longed for, and I know how ungodly expensive they are. You’ve taken me out for such delightful meals and to a play that the seats must have cost an absolute fortune…I’m afraid I’m taking advantage of your kindness and finances. I-I cannot give you such gifts, and I do not want to take and take from you.”</p><p>Crowley took one of Aziraphale’s hands in hers and placed her other hand on Aziraphale’s head. She brought his head back to her bony chest. “This is how I show my feelings. Remember I worked for Big Pharma for <em>decades </em>and ‘m an author. What we’ve got is like that Queen song.” Crowley sang the lyrics softly:</p><p>
  <em>Dining at Leonardo’s we’ll meet at nine precisely</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I will pay the bill, you taste the wine</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Driving back in style</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In my Bentley will do quite nicely</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just take me back to yours</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That will be fine</em>
</p><p>“What’s a Queen?...Oh, must be bebop. Though I must say, the lyrics are rather catchy,” Aziraphale hummed.</p><p>Crowley chuckled into Aziraphale’s hair. “You know, if you lined up everyone in the whole world and asked them to describe Queen, nobody, at all, would say bebop…Point is, I like to give you gifts ‘n things you need. Let me take you out to dinner, buy you any old book you’ve got your heart set on…Let me give you the rest of what you need for top surgery. Can help you get your tits cut off. Least I can do. All I want is to go back to your apartment, you come to my cottage, and go off together. Do whatever we want,” she replied.</p><p>“Dear girl, I need some time to think about it. I’ve already put you out so many times… Spending so much on birthday decorations, the scrummy cake, Thanksgiving dinner…And good heavens, the Bibles, Crowley! The <em>Bibles</em>! I’m terrified that you shall someday come to think I am only with you because of your financial situation…And possibly resent me for it,” Aziraphale pressed his face into Crowley’s chest, mumbling his confession.</p><p>“Dove, I <em>know </em>you’re not here ‘cause I’ve got bank. You’re here because you want me for me. Always prove it to me when you say good stuff ‘bout me…Even though ‘m not nice. Mischief maker, me. Bit of a demon. You want to go on adventures or just spend time with me. Don’t forget you spent a lot making your place comfortable for me. ‘F you didn’t care you wouldn’t have done that. Just so you know, I know those specialty bulbs aren’t cheap. You spent a lot on me too,” Crowley said and kissed the top of his head.</p><p>Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley’s chest and looked up into her eyes. She smiled at him. “Worth every penny, my darling girl. I will always take you back to my apartment if you’ve got the time, and I do enjoy our time here more than words can express. Any time with you is what true happiness is for me. As long as you know that I adore you, cherish you, and want you for as long as you will have me. If you ever begin to feel that I am taking advantage of your monetary wealth, please tell me.”</p><p>“Never will feel that way ‘bout you, angel. That conversation’s never gonna happen.  Now I know you asked me to give you time but I don’t want to. Aziraphale you’re uncomfortable and you don’t feel good about yourself. Here you are, affirming me. Calling me your girl, using the right pronouns. Didn’t question it for a second…Still can’t believe it. Never thought I’d meet someone like you who just accepts me no questions asked. Will you let me do this for you like you’ve done this for me? We can have it be an early Christmas gift if you want. But it kills me to see you so unhappy, dove. I can make this better,” Crowley looked as though she was peering right into Aziraphale’s soul.</p><p>Aziraphale could feel how much she understood him. Their experiences in different parts of the trans umbrella were different, but Crowley did experience dysphoria and discomfort too. All the times she was not able to ask for the pronouns she wanted used on any given day. All the years it most likely took for her to accept herself. Here he was, in the embrace of a beautiful person who wanted him to be happy. It had been years since anyone had truly cared about his happiness. Not to mention he’d never have to wear a binder again…</p><p>“I, ah, well…I really would love to, as you said earlier, ‘get my tits cut off.’ Rather vulgar, dear girl, but it certainly fits how I feel. Oh Crowley, I <em>hate </em>them! They’re terrible and I want to do away with my binders and give them to someone else who needs them! I want to not feel this way anymore. This surgery is the last part of what I need to feel whole, and I’ve been saving for so long. I-I never thought I’d have the chance. Crowley, if you’re sure, I’ll accept your help.” Aziraphale began to cry, and Crowley brought him to her chest again.</p><p>“Anything you need to feel whole, dove. I’ll do anything you need so you don’t hurt anymore. I’m crazy about you, angel. More’n anyone in my entire life. Isn’t gonna change. Want to take care of you. Let me take care of you.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. He couldn’t come up with anything else to say.</p><p>When Aziraphale’s cries turned to sniffles, he looked up at Crowley. He didn’t even care that his eyes were puffy and his nose was dripping a little. He knew he could trust her. The look Crowley gave him, so filled with love and understanding, broke him open. But not in a way that was painful. It wasn’t the kind of breaking open that leads to a Dark Night of the Soul. No, it was a swelling of love. He felt Crowley’s Light mingle with the Light of Christ that was deeply embedded in his heart. They merged together within Aziraphale, and they reached out to Aziraphale. He felt safe enough, open enough, to take both of their hands. To bleed together into a love that exceeded any he’d ever known.</p><p>The love of David and Jonathan flooded his mind:</p><p>
  <em>When David had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. Saul took him that day and would not let him return to his father’s house. Then Jonathan made a covenant with David, because he loved him as his own soul. Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that he was wearing, and gave it to David, and his armor, and even his sword and his bow and his belt. </em>
</p><p>Aziraphale felt as if they made a covenant together. Crowley had given him everything and more. Just as Jonathan gave his love and possessions to David, so, too, did Crowley give herself to Aziraphale. She sensed his needs and cared for him. Threw him a party, took him out of town to get him out of his head, listened and didn’t forget what brought him joy…Aziraphale knew that she’d hang the stars for him if he asked.</p><p>Aziraphale’s end of the covenant was in the form of his spiritual gifts. He gave his care, his time, his affirmations, and did his best to make Crowley feel safe and comfortable. He showed Crowley that she was worthy of love and understanding. Aziraphale would never leave or give up. He was loyal and devoted. Just as he never gave up on his Call, Aziraphale would never give up his partnership with Crowley.</p><p>His mind shifted to David’s lament of the loss of his love. But not to the sad part. The part where David expressed where his heart lied in their relationship.</p><p>
  <em>…You are my great delight. Your love is more wonderful to me than the love of women. </em>
</p><p>Crowley was Aziraphale’s great delight. Her care for him was more wonderful than the love anyone else could ever show him. Aziraphale had fallen for her. His beautiful, delightful, mischievous, sly partner. Crowley was in the deepest places in his heart now, in the most sacred space. The space where Jesus, too, resided.</p><p>Aziraphale knew he was in love with Crowley. He wished he could tell her, but he felt it was too soon. When God sensed the time was right, She would tell him to tell Crowley how deeply in love he was. Someday.</p><p>He was snapped out of his blissful realization by Crowley’s hand on his cheek. “Love when you get that look, angel,” she smiled.</p><p>“Ah, what look?”</p><p>She leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. “The one where I can tell how glad you are to be here with me.”</p><p>“I’m always glad to be with you, dear girl. I’m elated to know that you are able to see it. I hope you’ll never forget that. Now, perhaps you’d like to…Continue what you’ve started,” Aziraphale nipped at Crowley’s bottom lip.</p><p>Crowley answered him by carefully lowering him onto the couch. She slid on top of him and pulled the blanket over them. Aziraphale held her close, and Crowley continued kissing her angel silly.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s work phone was ringing insistently for an hour straight. He ignored it for as long as he could. He didn’t want to wake up, face whoever it might be. Aziraphale loved his job and his congregants. But it was his <em>Sabbath</em>, dammit! And he had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t a pastoral emergency…</p><p>He reached over and picked up his phone. “Bugger it all,” Aziraphale grumbled.</p><p>Crowley squeezed Aziraphale and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “Who is it?”</p><p>Aziraphale sighed. “Bishop Gabriel, I’m afraid. I’m going to need to take this call. If I do not, I’ll face a reprimand. They are usually quite unpleasant.”</p><p>“Put it on speaker. I want to hear what that wanker has to say to you. C’mere.” Crowley untangled herself from Aziraphale and propped herself up on the headboard. She opened up her arms and patted her chest. Her angel needed to be wrapped up in her comforting embrace.</p><p>Once Aziraphale was properly settled, she reached over to the end table her phone was on. She picked it up, brought up her voice recording app and started it up. Deep in her gut she knew this conversation was going to be ugly. She’d need proof of what the bishop said to Aziraphale.</p><p>As soon as the phone rang again, Aziraphale picked it up. Just as Crowley asked, he put it on speaker.</p><p>“Pastor Fell. Why did it take you so long to answer? I know you don’t have anything to do on your days off,” Gabriel said in a gruff tone.</p><p>“Bishop Gabriel, with all due respect I am quite occupied on my Sabbath days. However, I understand that something significant must have occurred,” Aziraphale responded.</p><p>“Yeah, whatever. Did you see last night’s news?”</p><p>“No, I did not. I do not look at the news before I go to bed or on my days off. What happened?”</p><p>Gabriel sighed. “A man of the Lord should really be keeping up to date. We need to stay vigilant in prayer… Last night the best Christian evangelist our world’s ever known died. Brother Titus.”</p><p>Crowley’s heart skipped a beat and she held Aziraphale close. She felt Aziraphale begin to tremble. And she couldn’t help but tremble too. For Crowley, it was a mixture of joy that Brother Titus died and disgust that he’d lived to be such an old man. Crowley hoped that if there was something after this that Hell was real. And Brother Titus was burning in eternal Hellfire—maybe also doing a mountain of paperwork in a dimly lit office where he got agonizing paper cuts—for the verbal, sexual, and physical abuse he put her through. She knew there were many others after her.</p><p>Aziraphale swallowed hard. He didn’t respond to Bishop Gabriel.</p><p>“It’s the greatest loss the Christian church has had in a very long time. The worst in my lifetime, actually. Yours too. You being so old I know you’ve been luckier than me and had his ministry forever. I wouldn’t want to be you in general, Pastor Fell, but I would have liked all the time with his wisdom and Godliness. Brother Titus needs to be honored in all of our churches. Quite fitting during Advent. Theme this Sunday is hope—I’m sure you need the reminder, and you’re welcome. I expect you to use Brother Titus’ life in your sermon. He brought hope to all Christians and won us many souls. Scrap whatever your sermon was and center it on him and how he was like Jesus,” Gabriel ordered.</p><p>Aziraphale’s face grew red with anger. He clenched his jaw and twisted his free hand in the blanket. He would NEVER honor that man. Brother Titus was a sinner in the eyes of the Lord. He was an anti-Christ. Cruel, filled with hatred, and encouraged his followers to engage in “holy warfare” with those unlike them. His favorite target was the queer community and always had been. Back in the 80s and early 90s his followers took Brother Titus’ words to their violent conclusion. Aziraphale had the scars to prove it. Emotionally and physically. A broken shoulder and leg from a pipe. A nasty scar on the back of his head from being bashed into the pavement. A scar on his plush tummy from being slashed by a knife.</p><p>Aziraphale answered in a firm and strong voice. “Bishop Gabriel, I will not honor that request. I will not speak of Brother Titus in my church. That man was not a Christian. To evangelize does not mean that Christ’s Light is in one’s heart. He is not worthy of a sermon or a comparison with our Savior.”</p><p>Gabriel shot back. “Aziraphale, you are the least capable pastor I know to judge who is and isn’t Christian. Brother Titus was a real voice of Christianity. And you will do as I say and honor him the way he deserves.”</p><p>Aziraphale stood his ground. “No. This time I will not obey you. We are the Beloved Disciples, Bishop Gabriel. We are to stand on the side of marginalized people. The LGBTQ community is one of our top priorities. Brother Titus targeted my community. I was the victim of his hateful rhetoric multiple times. And I do recall the many accusations of Brother Titus abusing homeless teenagers. I believe their stories and I will not stand to praise a man capable of pure evil,” Aziraphale said, his voice strong even though it wavered in anger.</p><p>Crowley’s blood was boiling. She was one of those homeless teens Brother Titus forced himself upon in exchange for giving her food, shelter, and the promise of a better life. She hated that Aziraphale suffered at his hands too. And she realized that there were many aspects of Aziraphale’s past that she still didn’t know. Crowley hoped that, in time, she would hear his stories. If Aziraphale would be able to trust her with those memories after the hurtful words she’d said, anyway.</p><p>Gabriel growled. “Aziraphale, you can’t trust teens to tell the truth. They just wanted money and to tarnish a good man’s rep. He was a saint to those wayward kids, and they didn’t appreciate it. And you know something? You focus too much on queers, Aziraphale. So what if Brother Titus said things about you people? You need to just get over it and move on. Blowing all of it out of proportion just like you always do. All you queer people do that. Now you WILL listen to me and praise Brother Titus. Put your unjust biases against him aside and give him what he’s owed.”</p><p>Aziraphale could not longer contain his anger. “<em>He who justifies the wicked and he who condemns the righteous, Both of them alike are an abomination to the Lord. </em>Bishop Gabriel, your behavior and the cruel things you’ve said are truly an abomination to the Lord. Your queerphobia goes against everything the Beloved Disciples stand far. To defend a man who caused irreparable harm and trauma to thousands of LGBTQ people and countless youth is deplorable. What he is owed is to be condemned for the monster he was. And I shall not go further into this matter!”</p><p>“All of you transgenders go against the will of the Lord every day with your actions. God made no mistake making you female, Aziraphale. If anyone is a disappointment and an abomination it is YOU. Your backtalk’s not going unpunished. I’ll be preaching at your church this Sunday. If you even so much as <em>think </em>of setting foot in the building, you’ll be sorry. I’ll be making a note of your insubordination in your file. Think twice next time you disobey me, Aziraphale.” Gabriel hung up on Aziraphale.</p><p>Crowley leaned over and turned off the recording, then turned her attention completely to her beloved.</p><p>Aziraphale held onto Crowley for dear life. He needed to feel safe. The memories of the physical agony, hate speech, and cruelty came back. His heartache and rage for the injustice of it all burned deep in his soul. It was these moments that made him doubt his faith. He never doubted Jesus, but he doubted God. Why did She never step in to protect Aziraphale, those teenagers, the being he loved…Protect him from the queerphobia and hate speech that Bishop Gabriel used against him. Aziraphale asked Her often to speak to him, explain it. Tell him why people like Brother Titus committed such atrocities. Tell him why a prick like Gabriel was a bishop in good standing…Why didn’t She smite people like that? It wasn’t fair. If Crowley hadn’t been there, holding him and cradling his head, Aziraphale wasn’t sure how he’d cope with the pain of all that transpired.</p><p>“Proud of you, dove. ‘M so proud of you, telling that bloody bastard off like that. Badass is what you are. Never stop amazing me with how brave you are, angel,” she whispered soothing praises.</p><p>It took an hour, but Aziraphale’s breathing slowed and his trembling became only a mild shiver.</p><p>“You were right, y’know. About Brother Titus. About the tee—”</p><p>“Hogweed,” Aziraphale interrupted. “Crowley, someday I want to talk about this. But I cannot handle it right now. Please do not think I’m silencing you.”</p><p>Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s cheek. “I know, don’t worry. We’ve got the safe word for a reason. No shame in takin’ care of yourself.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded in acknowledgement and let out a deep sigh of relief. It was the first time he’d had to use their safe word, and Crowley was respectful and understanding. Exactly how he’d prayed it would go if things ever came to it.</p><p>The intensity of it all wore him out. In the safety of Crowley’s embrace, Aziraphale slowly drifted off to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley had gotten dressed while Aziraphale stayed in his pajamas. He was far too exhausted to change. Crowley wore an outfit that he knew Aziraphale would love. It was one way to make Aziraphale smile, even if the day was shit. Crowley wore low rise black jeans, and when she moved in just the right way Aziraphale could see a peek of a lacy gray thong. She put on a long sleeve gray top that stopped just above her belly button.</p><p>Aziraphale clearly appreciated it. They were sitting on the couch. Crowley was sprawled out and her head was in his lap. She had her face nuzzled in his soft tummy. Aziraphale had a book in one hand and was caressing Crowley’s exposed stomach with the other. From time to time he’d whisper to her how beautiful she was. Crowley loved the attention she was getting, and thankful that Aziraphale seemed calmer. Though, of course, she couldn’t possibly know what was going on in his head.</p><p>It was nearing lunchtime, and Crowley had a plan. Maybe a foolish plan, but she didn’t care. It was worth a shot. But the hard part would be seeing if Aziraphale would be okay being left alone for a while.</p><p>“Angel?”</p><p>“Yes, my darling girl?” he replied softly.</p><p>“Would you mind if I stepped out for a bit? Completely forgot that Bessie’s due for a feeding today and I need to drop off some reports to Beez.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled down at Crowley. “Of course. Heavens knows I understand work obligations. Rest assured that I will be waiting here with my arms open. And Crowley, I do expect you to curl up in them when you return.”</p><p>Crowley hugged Aziraphale. “Nowhere else I’d rather be. Be back in about an hour.”</p><p>She gave him a quick kiss before she left for the Gardens. But what Aziraphale didn’t know was she’d fed Bessie early yesterday morning. And she’d turned in all her paperwork on Wednesday.</p><p>As she sped to work, Crowley could feel the anger welling deep within her. Crowley was disgusted with Gabriel beyond words. Just another cisgender, pathetic excuse for a Christian out in the world hurting the queer community. Supporting a man who was accused of abusing over a dozen homeless youth looking for a meal and a place to stay. Brother Titus had the money to keep himself out of trouble. And millions who wore crosses around their necks, said they believed in the life and ministry of Jesus, and faithfully went to church, stood by him. Villainized the victims. Worshiped Brother Titus instead, an anti-Christ through and through. None of those children ever got justice, and neither did Crowley. And she wasn’t going to let Bishop Gabriel perpetuate the false narrative of Brother Titus. And she sure as fuck wasn’t going to let him punish her angel for being truly righteous.</p><p>Crowley parked her Bentley next to Gabriel’s pristine white Porsche. Gabriel was leaning against it, waiting for Beelzebub to take their lunch break. She got out of the car as fast as she could and slammed the door. Gabriel didn’t bother to look behind him.</p><p>“Oi, bishop boy!” Crowley hissed and snapped her fingers.</p><p>He turned around, looked Crowley up and down, and sneered in disgust. “Oh, it’s <em>you </em>again. Listen, I’ve got better things to do than talk to a little worker bee. Go tend to your plants and leave the big boys alone.” Gabriel waved dismissively.</p><p>The words had barely left Gabriel’s lips before he was looking up into Crowley’s face. She towered over him in her stiletto heels. Her face was burning hot with anger. Gabriel couldn’t see her eyes, but he imagined that if looks could kill he’d probably be dead.</p><p>“You’re gonna get your phone out right now. You’re gonna call Pastor Fell, and you’re gonna apologize and let him preach whatever he wants ‘bout hope on Sunday,” Crowley demanded and jabbed him in the chest with her finger.</p><p>Gabriel glared at her. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“Oh, need a refresher, bishop boy? You spent the mornin’ defending a fake Christian who raped kids and told people to hurt queers like us. You fuckin’ told him to get over it and preach about a piece of shit who’s got a one-way ticket to Hell.”</p><p>He brushed Crowley’s hand away and dusted himself off. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I don’t know and I don’t care how you know ‘Pastor Fell’ but I suggest you stay out of my business. Before you go accusing someone of things they haven’t done maybe you should take a look at yourself. Plank in your eye, speck in mine. Spend some time with Matthew 7:3-5, that should help you. Now get lost.”</p><p>She crowded him up against the Porsche. “Thought bishops weren’t supposed to lie. Or maybe you’ve got amnesia. Lemme clear that up for you,” Crowley pressed play on the recording and it began to play.</p><p>
  <em>All of you transgenders go against the will of the Lord every day with your actions. God made no mistake making you female, Aziraphale. If anyone is a disappointment and an abomination it is YOU. Your backtalk’s not going unpunished. I’ll be preaching at your church this Sunday. If you even so much as think of setting foot in the building, you’ll be sorry.</em>
</p><p>Gabriel went pale as a ghost when he heard his words played back to him. He tried to keep a composed air about him, but the façade was crumbling under Crowley’s gaze.</p><p>She turned off the recording. “So, you and I both know you’re fucked if this gets in the wrong hands. Maybe Pastor Fell wouldn’t think to use your words against you, but ‘m not him. Threatening a pastor <em>and </em>being a transphobic prick? Tsk tsk Gabey, even I know that the Beloved Disciples wouldn’t stand for this shit if they knew. So you gonna call Pastor Fell and make nice or is this going above your head?”</p><p>Gabriel mumbled under his breath and pulled out his phone. He called Aziraphale. As he waited for him to pick up, Crowley demanded that Gabriel put it on speaker.</p><p>“Bishop Gabriel?” Aziraphale answered on the third ring.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, change of plans Sunday. You’re preaching and we’re going to forget this morning’s conversation happened.”</p><p>“Ah, thank you, Bishop Gabriel. Do you have a specific passage from the Synoptic Gospels that you would like me to preach on instead of what I’ve already prepared?”</p><p>When Crowley heard Aziraphale’s question, she wanted to punch Gabriel as hard as she could in the dick. Gabriel had been so cruel, demanding, and demeaning to Aziraphale over the years. Downright abusive if you asked her. Poor Aziraphale, conditioned by Gabriel’s abuse, was asking if there was an alternative punishment in the form of taking away the scripture he’d planned to preach on.</p><p>Bishop Gabriel answered in a sharp tone. “No. Whatever you have will be passable to your flock.  Go eat a salad and go for a walk. It’s nice out today. Bye, Pastor Fell.”</p><p>He put his phone away and locked eyes with Crowley. Her arms were folded in front of her chest and she had a dangerous smirk on her face. “You fuck with my angel, you’ll be seeing me again. Hope Beez dumps your queerphobic ass,” she spit on Bishop Gabriel’s expensive shoes and sauntered away.</p><p>“This isn’t over, mark my words, worker bee!” Bishop Gabriel yelled after Crowley.</p><p>She stared at him as she opened her car door. “It’s Crowley. I’ll be seein’ you.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>After Bishop Gabriel hung up, Aziraphale busied himself by heating up Thanksgiving leftovers. He needed a distraction, and he wanted to do something nice for his love. In the decade that Aziraphale had known Gabriel, not once did he ever change his mind with punishments. Something external had to have happened.</p><p>Aziraphale began to speculate that Crowley was involved. The three of them were the only ones who knew what happened that morning. Aziraphale was aware that Bishop Gabriel visited the Botanical Gardens to spend time with Beelzebub. Crowley had complained about it multiple times, after all. Had Crowley sought Bishop Gabriel out and had a few choice words?</p><p>He shivered as a wave of arousal hit him. Aziraphale remembered the way Crowley protected him and Beau. Crowley was a protector. Crowley was a serpent coiled around him, hissing at anyone who sought to harm him. In truth, Crowley was <em>his </em>protector. And to know that Crowley cared enough about him to defend him was almost unbearably attractive and comforting.</p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t wait for Crowley to walk through the door.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Scripture References:</p><p>1 Samuel 18:1-5 (New Revised Standard Version)</p><p>2 Samuel 1:26b (God's Word Translation)</p><p>Proverbs 17:15 (New American Standard Bible)</p><p>Thank you again, everyone, for all of your comments, support, and encouragement. Monday is the day I go to therapy, and I often go back and read the kind words and comments you leave me. They give me so much comfort after the intensity of facing my struggles head on. I hope you all know how important you are &lt;3.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Interlude of Gabe and Beez</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We now take a brief interlude from our darling ineffable partners to hear from Beez!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="first-line-none">Beelzebub was leaning against the administrative building having a cigarette when they overhead a verbal scuffle in the parking lot. They weren’t expecting Gabriel for about another half an hour, hence why they were enjoying a smoke. Gabriel did not approve of Beez indulging in such “gross matter.” But he wasn’t one to tell them what to do, and they sure as fuck weren’t the type to listen anyway. And Gabriel never seemed to mind the taste of stale smoke on Beelzebub’s breath despite his criticism. Not once in their entire thirty-year relationship did he pass up an opportunity to kiss Beelzebub.</p><p class="first-line-none">But Beez knew those two voices all too well. Crowley and Gabriel. Why was Crowley there? Why the Hell were those two talking at all? They took a long drag, tossed the butt on the ground and crushed it under their heel. Beelzebub always felt a wave of satisfaction when they littered. One of the many praiseworthy activities that the Devilist faith encouraged. They peeked past the wall to watch the altercation. They didn’t want to be seen.</p><p class="first-line-none">Beelzebub was quite impressed by Crowley’s aggressive stance. The way she intimidated Gabriel with her stature and her demeaner was surprising. Beez knew firsthand that Crowley was a mischievous, confrontational shit, but they had no idea she had it in her to look so threatening. Must’ve been a good reason. They felt a wave of disgust when they heard the recording of Gabriel’s voice, loud and clear:</p><p class="first-line-none">
  <em>All of you transgenders go against the will of the Lord every day with your actions. God made no mistake making you female, Aziraphale. If anyone is a disappointment and an abomination it is YOU. Your backtalk’s not going unpunished. I’ll be preaching at your church this Sunday. If you even so much as think of setting foot in the building, you’ll be sorry.</em>
</p><p class="first-line-none"> </p><p class="first-line-none">It wasn’t Gabriel’s threats that bothered Beez. And it sure wasn’t because his cruelty was geared towards Pastor Fell. They couldn’t care less about that fat, cherubic underling. Truth be told, Beelzebub <em>liked </em>when Gabriel showed the world how much of a prick he could be. It was one of the things that drew Beez to him in the first place. His strong beliefs, fierce judgments, ability to bring people to tears with harsh words hidden behind his perfect smile…And he also knew never to treat Beelzebub that way, lest he face the beating of a lifetime. Beez could play that game better than anyone, after all. Gabriel saw Beez as his equal—his only equal, in fact.</p><p class="first-line-none">So what about it bothered Beez so much? It was Gabriel’s comments about transgender people. It was becoming more and more unbearable for them to handle. Beez certainly wouldn’t mind more queer people going to Hell—it would be nice to hang out with lots of them and serve the Adversary in the afterlife together. In Beelzebub’s branch of Devilism, queer people were held to the highest status. They were valued since the beginning, and often were chosen to be leaders. This was not because Devilists believed queer people were “abominations” or “going against God.” Who gave a fuck about God, anyway? No; it was because they simply accepted queer people as that—people. Their sexualities and gender identities were seen as cool, unique. Personally, Beelzebub believed that their Lord was most likely a nonbinary pansexual. There was a special place in the courts of Hell for LGBTQ Devilists to lead and serve.</p><p class="first-line-none">Overhearing this conversation was only reinforcing what Beez was coming to realize: their relationship with Gabriel couldn’t continue. Beelzebub never thought they would see their love for Gabriel fade away. The thing that should’ve kept them apart—their religious differences—had never affected them. It became a point of humor for them over the years—they would even tally up the souls they won for their sides and compare notes each week. It was one of their date night traditions. The nature of their relationship? No issue. Beez didn’t care that Gabriel never put a ring on their finger. It wasn’t important that Gabriel kept his romantic life with them separate from the rest of it. They didn’t care that Gabriel wouldn’t take them places where people knew he was a bishop. He had a reputation to uphold as a pious Christian man, after all. Gabriel wouldn’t give up that outside image for anything, and Beelzebub didn’t want them to.</p><p class="first-line-none">But there was one thing that Beez hoped would change, and that was Gabriel’s stance on queer people. Gabriel was raised in a very traditional, conservative family. They belonged to the Church of the Blessed Disciples, which later split over the LGBTQ “issue”. Gabriel firmly believed what the church taught him in his early years: that being queer was an abomination, and it was only through celibacy or conversion therapy that a queer person would avoid eternal damnation. The only reason he joined the Beloved Disciples Church—which split from the other Disciples because a large number wanted to be open and affirming—was because the new denomination needed people who understood church leadership. Gabriel hid his queerphobia well enough and helped grow the Beloved Disciples into a healthily sized denomination. His administrative skills, smooth talking ways, and visible faith helped him succeed. It didn’t take long for Gabriel to become a bishop, and he was rather enjoying it until Pastor Fell came along.</p><p class="first-line-none">Beez didn’t care much about this before. It was annoying, but Beelzebub could let it slide. They ignored Gabriel when he talked about how proud he was to be a straight, cisgender man. They rolled their eyes when he said that “straight pride” should be a thing too. But things were different for Beelzebub now. With the help of their friend Dagon, Beez realized that they were nonbinary. All the years that they didn’t feel quite right about being read as a cisgender female finally made sense. When Beelzebub came out to Gabriel a year ago and explained that they were nonbinary and now used they/them pronouns, Gabriel nearly had a heart attack. He panicked, argued with Beez about it. Begged them not to “do this to him.” There were loud, intense fights, but the two came back together. Gabriel didn’t want to lose Beez, so he said he would try.</p><p class="first-line-none">Gabriel did try. Kind of. Well…Barely. He used the correct pronouns about 15% of the time. Of course, he always used the excuse that it was “too hard” or “not grammatically correct” to justify his many slips. He sometimes would refer to Beez as his partner, as they’d asked. Most the time he’d revert back to calling them “Beelzebaby Girl”, the nickname he gave them when they started dating at age 15. As the year went on, however, Gabriel’s queerphobia only became worse. He would kiss Beez but would no longer have sexual intimacy with them. Gabriel wanted to protect his heterosexuality at all costs. Kissing didn’t count, he said. While Gabriel had complained about Pastor Fell from the very start, his complaints were growing worse and more frequent. It always tied back to him being transgender and gay. Beez could no longer stand to be indifferent about it, because Gabriel’s views impacted them, too.</p><p class="first-line-none">They’d reached an impasse, and Beelzebub knew it was time to let Gabriel go, no matter how much it hurt.</p><p class="first-line-none"> </p><p class="first-line-none">***</p><p class="first-line-none"> </p><p class="first-line-none">Gabriel was visibly agitated by the time Beelzebub swaggered over to him. Crowley had been gone for about 10 minutes now. They thought that would give Gabriel enough time to settle a bit, but it didn’t. His violet eyes were dark with anger.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Beelzebaby Girl, you won’t <em>believe </em>what just happened. That demon of yours. Crawly? Crowley? Just blackmailed me!” he huffed.</p><p class="first-line-none">Beelzebub was keeping their distance from him. Usually they would come close, take him in their arms and kiss him hello. But Beez knew if they did, it would be near impossible to leave. They stared at Gabriel and said nothing.</p><p class="first-line-none">He continued. “Babe, it was bizarre. He, she…Whatever had a recording of the conversation I had with Pastor Fell this morning. Turns out they’re having…Intimate relations with each other. Disgusting.” Gabriel’s face twisted in disgust and he shuddered. “So you know how the Beloved Disciples are wrong about all this transgendered and gay stuff. I was simply speaking the truth and that little worker bee said <em>it </em>would use it against me!”</p><p class="first-line-none">Beez glared at Gabriel. “Did you just call Crowley an ‘it’?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Oh, don’t give me that now, Beez. That he/she doesn’t matter! The only thing that matters is it had the balls to threaten me!” Gabriel sneered.</p><p class="first-line-none">“You brought it on yourself. You know the beliefs of the Beloved Disciples. Can’t handle the paperwork if you get caught spouting off then keep your mouth shut,” they said firmly.</p><p class="first-line-none">He had the nerve to look offended. “Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side here! You’ve got the tools at your disposal to make life difficult for Crowley, and I need you to!”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Actually, I would have to give Crowley a commendation. Finding a way to destroy a man of the cloth is something a Demonist would praise,” they responded.</p><p class="first-line-none">Gabriel stepped closer to Beez, and they stepped back. He looked at them in hurt and confusion. “Don’t break my heart here, baby. I know it’s just as commendable to help me out with this... You’ve gotta have something I can use against Crowley to get him to back off. That-that <em>thing </em>and Pastor Fell need to know their place!”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Enough of this shit!” Beez raised their voice. “Gabriel, get in your fancy fucking car and leave. We’re done as of,” they looked at their watch. “Noon.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Done? You can’t mean?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Yes I do.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Gabriel’s frowned. “I don’t get it. Things have been good. Just fine. Why do you care all of a sudden about Crowley? You never did before!”</p><p class="first-line-none">They snarled. “It isn’t about him, Gabe. You know that.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Well, what’s it about then?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“We can’t work anymore. This arrangement has to end. Our backchannel way of doing this has been fun, but it’s over. You won’t change, and I’m not going to change <em>back </em>to who you want me to be.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Gabriel gasped. “Oh, so you’re just going to throw away thirty years of being my girl because you’re choosing a different lifestyle? I’ve worked with you Beez. I’m trying. Why does our relationship have to be all about…” Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “You wanting to be queer? Not everything needs to be about it!”</p><p class="first-line-none">“It’s who I am, Gabe. You can’t accept that, so you can’t accept me. Now leave before I take matters into my own hands. Lose my number. If I see you on these grounds again, Hastur and Ligur will have some words with you. Go before I make you!”</p><p class="first-line-none">Beez picked up a small stone and threw it at Gabriel. It hit him in the forehead, leaving a nasty cut in its wake. He said a few curse words, held his head in his hand and got in his car. He watched with one eye as Beez stormed away.</p><p class="first-line-none">Gabriel was furious. He couldn’t see that this was all his fault. It was his disrespect and inability to accept Beelzebub as they were for their breakup. If he couldn’t see that his treatment of Pastor Fell was wrong, how could he possibly see that his treatment of Beez was shitty, too?</p><p class="first-line-none">To no one’s surprise, Gabriel blamed Crowley and Pastor Fell. In his mind, they were the reason why decades of forbidden and passionate love went down the drain. Gabriel vowed to God that he would have revenge. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when, but he would make them pay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is all mature sexual content. Conversations about sex, boundaries, and there's smut. Next chapter will be smut-free.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="first-line-none">The moment Crowley stepped through the cottage door, Aziraphale hurried towards her. He pulled her into a tight embrace and peppered her cheek with kisses.</p><p class="first-line-none">“I could get used to a greeting like this, angel,” Crowley wrapped her arms around Aziraphale and squeezed him.</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale carefully pressed Crowley against the front door. Before Crowley had a chance to adjust to the movement, Aziraphale brought his lips to Crowley’s and kissed her with hunger. Prior to this moment, all of their kisses had been on the slow, tender side. But this one was different. There was a fierce, fiery passion. It lit a fire that warmed Crowley from the inside out. She deepened the kiss, and Aziraphale invited Crowley into his mouth.</p><p class="first-line-none">He couldn’t help but let out a moan. Crowley’s forked tongue was magical. He had a sense that it would be; that cherry stem trick had him fantasizing for <em>days. </em>The way she could move each side separately, wrap her tongue around Aziraphale’s as if in a gentle embrace…Aziraphale hoped someday he would get the opportunity to feel it elsewhere.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley lowered her hands and grabbed Aziraphale’s plush backside. Even though she had long fingers, she still couldn’t get more than a handful. Oh how she wished she could cup the entirety of his fat bottom! Aziraphale gasped at the touched and held her closer to his body. She loved how responsive Aziraphale was to her touch.</p><p class="first-line-none">After a while, Crowley knew she needed to break the spell they were under. She wanted more. Wanted to take him into her bedroom and give Aziraphale every pleasure known to humanity. But they hadn’t talked about sex yet. She wanted to make sure before they took their relationship to a more intimate level that they knew what the other wanted. What was off limits. And, given both of their gender identities, they needed to talk about anything that may cause dysphoria.</p><p class="first-line-none">She broke the kiss and looked into Aziraphale’s eyes. He whimpered with the loss of Crowley’s wicked tongue. His pupils were blown and he was panting a little. It took a great deal of strength for Crowley to stop.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Aziraphale, we need to stop. Want to have a conversation about sex before things go farther. That is, ‘f that’s what you want,” she said before kissing the tip of his nose.</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale gave her a sweet smile that made her weak in the knees. “I agree. I apologize for being so forceful, my dear girl. I should have asked your consent before I kissed you this way.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“No, all of it was welcome. Would’ve told you no, I promise. But let’s have lunch and discuss everything after, yeah?” she said.</p><p class="first-line-none">He nodded. “Are you ready for this conversation about carnal activity? I don’t want to pressure you. I know we haven’t been together long yet, and I don’t want to appear as though I…Only want you in a sexual manner.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley cupped his cheek. “Don’t feel that way at all, dove. I can sense when it’s all people want from me. I knew right from the get-go that you didn’t see me like that. I’m ready to talk about this. We don’t have to act on it any time soon, but ‘d rather talk sooner than later.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale bought his hand up to Crowley’s. He sighed into her touch. “I feel the same. I reheated everything and I set the table.”</p><p class="first-line-none"> </p><p class="first-line-none">***</p><p class="first-line-none"> </p><p class="first-line-none">After lunch, Crowley and Aziraphale sat on the couch. They faced each other and held hands.</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale blushed a little. He’d never had a conversation about sex before. His relationship with Christopher was a whirlwind of passion right from the beginning. They fell into bed and learned as they went. But Aziraphale was older now, and it had been decades since he’d been sexually intimate. He didn’t want any misunderstandings or to cause Crowley any discomfort. Not to mention he needed to explain his need for barriers in all sexual activities. Aziraphale prayed that Crowley would understand and not be put off by it.</p><p class="first-line-none">“So angel, what types of sex are you comfortable with?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Well, I, ah…I’m quite fond of fellatio and enjoy receiving cunnilingus. I enjoy using my hands on a partner and having them used on me. Sometimes I feel that this portion isn’t very ‘trans’ of me but I absolutely love vaginal penetration. I haven’t felt dysphoric about my genitals. Also, the surgeries are incredibly expensive and top surgery has been enough work to save for…I’m rambling. I’m sorry, dear girl. Do you have any questions before you tell me what you enjoy?”</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley leaned forward and gave Aziraphale a quick kiss. “First off, dove, you’re not rambling. Even if you were it doesn’t matter. Need to get it all out. ‘ve got a few questions but the first is why do you not feel very ‘trans’ because you like penetration and having a cunt?”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale shuddered at Crowley’s vulgarity. It was predominantly a shiver of arousal. Though, there was a little discomfort. He’d never been subjected to such language in an intimate sense before.</p><p class="first-line-none">“So many of my transgender siblings struggle with having vulvas. And when I came out, there was a lot of pressure to be as ‘masculine’ as possible. Stereotypically speaking. All the trans men I knew wanted bottom surgery. When they spoke of sex, there was shame about their genitals, and they shared numerous horror stories with me. I never spoke of my own feelings regarding my own body. In part because well, I am a rather private man. But also because I was afraid that I would be perceived as not really transgender because I am at peace with this part of myself,” he answered.</p><p class="first-line-none">She squeezed his hand. “Well, if it helps, I think every trans, genderfluid, nonbinary, any identity really, is a personal thing. No right or wrong way. You’re who you are, and this is your journey. ‘S your body…Ah, fuck,” Crowley smacked her forehead with her free hand. “Realized I used feminine words for your junk. Not okay. How do you refer to it?”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale giggled. Oh how he adored Crowley’s sensitivity, even if it came a little late. “I use vulva, vagina, clitoris…All of the technical words I suppose. I must admit that your terms are rather new to me. And I’m rather surprised to tell you that I respond quite well to them.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, angel, I love talking dirty. But I won’t do it until you say you’re ready for it. ‘S new and I think we need to work up to something like that.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Thank you, my darling. I agree wholeheartedly with that statement. Now, what kinds of sexual activities are you comfortable partaking in?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Fucking love eating people out. Could do it all day. I like getting head but ‘s not a big deal one way or the other. Know some people are squicked by it. Total respect. Really enjoy topping. I’ve never bottomed before but always wanted to try. Never let clients with cocks penetrate me back in the day. Just never felt comfortable with it. Always wanted it to be saved for someone who cared, y’know? Would you ever be willing to use a strap on me? Not any time soon, if we take things farther. Going to need a bit before I could be that vulnerable,” she answered.</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her palm. “My dear, I would be ever so comfortable with using a strap on. When—or if—you are ready, I do believe we will need to shop together to find one that is right for both of us. I have never used one, so I know absolutely nothing about them.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Me neither. Gonna have to do some research. Now, how ‘bout dysphoria? What things would make you feel uncomfortable?”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale gave the question some thought. He never thought much about that question. He had no reason to. After all, he never thought he’d be sexually active again. “I will need to wear a shirt and a sports bra during sexual activity. My binder would be far too much, but I need some compression. And I do not want you to see my chest until I’ve had top surgery. When you touch me, you may go under my shirt and touch my tummy. It is a bit of an erogenous zone for me. But please do not put your hands higher than that. Thank you for asking me. If we had gone straight into physical intimacy I may not have thought about it until something happened. Now, my sweet, what are things that might trigger feelings of dysphoria in you?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Angel, your question just made me realize somethin’.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“What’s that, Crowley?”</p><p class="first-line-none">She gave a nervous smile to Aziraphale. “This is going to be my first time in a few ways. My first time with someone I have real feelings for. ‘N my first time as my real self. Haven’t been living as genderfluid for all that long. Are you open to using what terms I want on any given day, depending on how I’m presenting?”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Absolutely, dear girl. I will always respect you. Even if I never speak the terms out loud, when I make love to you in any way, shape, or form you desire I want to think of them properly.”</p><p class="first-line-none">She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, angel. On my femme days, ‘d like you to use ‘girldick’ or ‘clit’. On my masc days, use ‘cock’ or ‘prick’. Anatomically correct language for my goods aren’t my thing. Any words off limits for yours?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Thank you, I’ll remember that. And I will be sure to ask if you do not tell me straightaway. Please, for the love of all that is holy in this world, do not use…Oh Good Lord, I even hate saying these terms. I don’t think I can, Crowley.” Aziraphale grabbed his notebook and pen off of the coffee table and scribbled the words down. He sighed and handed it to Crowley.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley began to howl with laughter. Her whole body shook, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but join along. He didn’t mind her poking fun at him on something like this. It was dreadfully cute.</p><p class="first-line-none">She wiped away her tears of joy and began to read. She had to milk this for all it was worth. “Okay, so not ‘twat’, ‘snatch’, and ‘bussy.’ You mean pussy?”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale shook his head no. “You read it correctly. Some trans men use the term for their genitals, but it does not work for me.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Gotcha. You okay with pussy, clit, ‘n cunt? Or you want me to use vulva, vagina, all that? Do whatever you’d like,” Crowley said.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Those vulgarities are acceptable, Crowley…I actually have something I need to explain to you. It is rather embarrassing for me.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley looked at Aziraphale with concern. “Don’t need to be embarrassed with me, dove. Whatever you need, s’not a problem.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Now, first I must let you know that this has absolutely nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with your past. This is a…Quirk of sorts that developed during Christopher’s illness and I have not been the same since. I have to use barriers for all types of sexual congress. Even with myself. I have to use gloves when pleasuring myself and condoms for my toys.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Dental dams, condoms, gloves. Got it. Don’t have dams or condoms here. Need to buy some. When you’re ready. You tell me when, I’ll get ‘em. Do exam gloves work? A while back I had to give myself some Vitamin B-12 shots for a bit. Powder free nitrile.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale looked at her in surprise. “You’re okay with this…Issue I have?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Angel, I lived through the AIDS Crisis too. How could we ever come out of that without something changing? I always used protection with johns and clients when I was hooking. For oral, anal, vaginal…All of it. Anyone who bitched about it didn’t get my services. Should tell you that I haven’t had sex since 1985. Was my last client ever and I didn’t want anything to do with sex after that. D’you want me to get tested again? That doesn’t change using barriers. Getting tested isn’t about that. I just want you to be comfortable.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“It has been an awfully long time for both of us, it seems. Crowley, I do not need you to get tested for any venereal diseases. It has been a long time, and I’ve no doubt you’ve had blood work and the like since your last sexual encounter. What else do we need to discuss, my darling?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Hmm…Type of sex we like? Soft, rough, kinky? ‘ve done it all. Don’t care for BDSM. Did the dominatrix thing for money but never got a thing out of it.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“I am…Oh, what is the term? I do believe it’s ‘vanilla.’ I want to feel loved and cared for. That does not mean I do not enjoy passionate lovemaking on the faster side of it. But it is important to me to feel safe and cherished.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley smiled. “Good. ‘Cause I cherish you, angel. Want you to feel safe with me.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face in his hands and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “I’ve felt safe with you since we met, my darling girl. But after you put Bishop Gabriel in his place, I know you’re the safest person I’ve ever been fortunate enough to have in my life. Thank you. I do not know how you convinced him to change his tune, but I know without an ounce of doubt that it was you…And, to tell you the truth, your protection aroused me beyond my ability to express through words or actions.”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Ngk. How do you know I did it?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“You told me that he visits Beelzebub at your workplace. It was around lunchtime, so it would make a great deal of sense for him to be there waiting for them. And even if Armageddon was happening, Bishop Gabriel would never back down on a punishment without significant pressure. And, my dear, remember that you’re the only one who was present. How did you convince him, my sweet?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley grinned. “Recorded the whole conversation on my phone, Aziraphale. Went up to that bastard in the parking lot, played it, and told him I’d go to the higher ups if he didn’t back off. And angel, I’ve saved the recording a coupla places now. If he ever fucks with you again, we’re going to end him. You ‘n me.”</p><p class="first-line-none">With those words, Aziraphale was a goner. In a flash, he was straddling Crowley, pulling her into a deep kiss. The passion of the early afternoon’s kisses returned. Crowley brought her hands to Aziraphale’s ass and gave each cheek a light smack before grabbing them.</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale moaned into Crowley’s open mouth. “If you do that again, I’m afraid I’m going to have to drag you to the bedroom.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley growled and smacked his ass again, a little harder this time. “Is that a promise, dove?”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale swiftly got up from Crowley’s lap. He took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. Crowley’s mind was foggy with desire. She kept her eyes glued on Aziraphale’s fat bottom. The kissing, touching, and sight of her angel’s thick body had her girldick standing proudly at attention.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Crowley, dearest, I’m going to change into my sports bra and a different shirt. Will you please get the gloves?” Aziraphale purred in Crowley’s ear.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Ngk. ‘Course,” she rushed off to the bathroom.</p><p class="first-line-none">With trembling hands, Aziraphale opened up his weekend bag and fished out a black shirt and his sports bra. He didn’t care for black, but it hid his chest better. Combined with a tight sports bra, it got the job done enough that he wouldn’t feel dysphoric during sex. Aziraphale couldn’t wait for the day he’d be able to make love to Crowley without a shirt on. But for now, this was as good as it got. He didn’t feel self-conscious at all. Aziraphale decided he didn’t want to wait for Crowley to undress him; he needed her <em>now</em>. He took his pants and boxer briefs off and crawled onto the bed.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley had the same idea as Aziraphale. She knew it would be sweeter for her to take her time, strip for him. But she wanted to see his face, his desire, his need for her the moment she walked through the bathroom door. Crowley slowly undressed and tossed her clothes in the hamper.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Are you ready for me, angel?”</p><p class="first-line-none">“Don’t keep me waiting any longer, dear girl,” Aziraphale responded.</p><p class="first-line-none">The moment Crowley stepped out of the bathroom, her jaw dropped and she nearly lost her grip on the box of gloves. Aziraphale was laying down with his head propped up against a pillow. His thick, plump thigh were parted in invitation. Crowley could see the thick thatch of white hair covering Aziraphale’s vulva and mound. She licked her lips at the thought of spreading his folds and touching every inch.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Oh, <em>Crowley</em>,” Aziraphale said in a breathy tone. He was just as enamored with her body. Tall, lanky, and lean. Crowley’s girlcock was average in every way, much to Aziraphale’s delight. He’d never been a size queen and was greatly relieved to know he wouldn’t have to worry about it. While Crowley shaved her armpit hair and most of her body was hairless, she kept her pubic hair all natural. Aziraphale loved the reddish-silver curls above her genitals. He loved the sight almost as much as her long, flowing mane.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley sauntered over to the bed, swaying her hips as she walked. Aziraphale moved over on the bed to make room for Crowley. “Will you hand me a pair of gloves, darling?”</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley tossed Aziraphale two gloves, put some on herself, and put the box on the nightstand. Aziraphale put his gloves on and beckoned Crowley to come to him. She curled up in his embrace. She kissed his neck, nibbled on his ear and whispered, “what do you want, dove? Tell me.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale let out a breathy moan at Crowley’s words. He wanted everything, if he was being honest with himself. His inner hedonist was screaming for her to touch him, kiss him, lick him, penetrate him…But they didn’t have all the protection Aziraphale needed, so hands would have to do.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Would you be opposed to sitting behind me, holding me in your arms and pleasuring me? I promise I’ll return the affections, my darling.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley reluctantly pulled herself away from Aziraphale’s embrace. He scooted forward so Crowley could get behind him. She put a pillow behind her and sat behind him. Once they were properly settled, Crowley slid Aziraphale’s shirt up so only his heavy belly was showing. She purred with pleasure as she saw the soft, white hair that covered it.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Is this all right?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale nodded “yes.”</p><p class="first-line-none">She reverently caressed Aziraphale’s fat stomach. She traced her fingers up and down the stretchmarks lining Aziraphale’s love handles. Some faded, others new and pink. God, Crowley loved how beautiful they felt under her fingertips. She loved how soft his body was, the plush feeling of the hair covering Aziraphale’s body. Testosterone had been good to Aziraphale.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Angel, I’ve thought about this for so long. Your stomach is one of the sexiest parts of you,” she pressed gentle kisses to his neck as she worshiped him.</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale put his hands over Crowley’s so he could follow her movements. “I’m glad you think me being fat is sexy. I think it’s a good thing,” he sighed in pleasure.</p><p class="first-line-none">“You have no idea how turned on I am by your body. I love your fat belly. Looks so good, clothing or not. Love how soft you are,” her hands slowly slid down to Aziraphale’s thighs and gave them a squeeze. “I love your thick thighs. So fucking sexy how they rub together when you walk. Love how much space they take up, how you own it. Love the way they feel in my hands. Strong and soft at the same time. Thank you for letting me do this, dove. Fuck,” she nibbled on the shell of his ear and breathed in his scent. The gentle scent of lavender mixed with his sweat was its own aphrodisiac.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Crowley, p-please, stop teasing,” Aziraphale whined. He spread his legs as far as they would go, and Crowley accommodated the movement.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Need you to tell me what you want, angel. Want your consent,” she answered.</p><p class="first-line-none">“T-touch my clitoris, put your fingers inside of me…Anything, just want to feel your hands on me,” Aziraphale whimpered.</p><p class="first-line-none">“I’ll take care of you.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley slowly slid her left hand down to Aziraphale’s vulva. She leaned over his shoulder so she could get a view. She would prefer to be between his legs, lapping away at his pussy, but no matter what she was just happy for the opportunity. Aziraphale’s sex was glistening with slick, and Crowley could feel how wet he was through the gloves.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Oooh, my darling,” Aziraphale moaned in pleasure.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley slid her fingers up and down Aziraphale’s slit, gathering plenty of slick on the tips of her gloves. She moved up to his large, hard clit and began to rub it with her index and middle fingers. “Want me to go slow, work you up? Drag this out until you’re begging? Or do you want this fast, make you cum harder than you have in your life? Tell me, baby.”</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale barely registered Crowley’s words. She was a master at bringing him pleasure. It was as if they’d made love countless times. She just seemed to know exactly how to touch him. He knew he wasn’t going to last long, but he didn’t care.</p><p class="first-line-none">“F-fast, dear girl…Don’t think I can hold on long. Put your fingers inside of me, please. I-I can take two. I need to feel you,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley made sure her fingers were coated in plenty of slick and moved down to his entrance. She slowly teased her way in, taking her time. She knew better than to just shove herself into his wet heat. Crowley slowly moved her fingers a little way in, then back out until Aziraphale’s body granted full access. Aziraphale let out a filthy groan that was music to Crowley’s ears. She crooked her fingers and rubbed his g-spot. Crowley brought her thumb to Aziraphale’s clit and rubbed him in time with her firm presses to his inner walls.</p><p class="first-line-none">Aziraphale pressed his fully body weight into Crowley and wrapped his arm around her neck to pull her closer. He threw his head back, screwed his eyes shut, and bit his lip. Crowley took the opportunity to look at her beloved’s face. Aziraphale was a lovely shade of pink, there was sweat on his brow, and he looked as if he was concentrating. It reminded her of a person trying to figure out a difficult math problem. Crowley loved seeing him so lost in pleasure. The pleasure that only she could give him. She hoped that there would never be another as long as they both lived.</p><p class="first-line-none">“C-Crowley!” Aziraphale cried out as he came, his vision whiting out in pure pleasure. Crowley felt Aziraphale walls flutter around his fingers and his clit pulse under her thumb. Aziraphale’s whole body shook with the power of his orgasm. She could say that it was, by far, the hottest experience of her life. To touch someone she loved, especially such an angelic, beautiful man, was a near out of body experience. Crowley would happily stay inside of him forever if she could. But soon Aziraphale was oversensitive and gently patted her hand.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley slowly removed her fingers, and Aziraphale brought her hand to his lips. With an obscene moan, Aziraphale took her fingers in his mouth and licked his juices off of her gloves.</p><p class="first-line-none">“I can feel how aroused you are, my darling. How would you like me to pleasure you?” Aziraphale said after releasing Crowley’s fingers with a wet pop.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Cuddle me, give me that wicked mouth of yours, touch my girldick. Only ‘f you want to,” she answered quietly.</p><p class="first-line-none">“My sweet, it would be a perfect belated birthday gift if you let me stroke your girldick. Come here, it’s my time to take care of you,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley slithered out from behind Aziraphale. He laid down on his side and fluffed up a pillow before putting it behind his head. She snaked her way into Aziraphale’s arms and crushed her lips against his. He let out a surprised gasp at the force of her kiss. Aziraphale loved how worked up she was just from making him climax.</p><p class="first-line-none">As they kissed like horny teenagers, Aziraphale brought his gloved hand down to his cunt and covered it with his slick. After it was coated with his lubricant, Aziraphale brought his hand down to Crowley’s girldick and began to stroke. Crowley moaned at the slide of Aziraphale’s wet gloves on her member. Aziraphale held her girldick in a firm grip as he stroked her up and down, twisting his wrist when he reached the head.</p><p class="first-line-none">Crowley cried into Aziraphale’s mouth as she came, painting Aziraphale’s glove and her stomach in milky white streaks of seed.</p><p class="first-line-none">“Holy shit, angel,” Crowley sighed as she went boneless in Aziraphale’s arms. Just as she’d always hoped, an orgasm with someone who she was in love felt far better than all the others in her life. She could feel the waves of affection and care flowing from Aziraphale. It felt as though she was basking on a beautiful beach soaking up the sun’s rays. There was no place she would rather be.</p><p class="first-line-none">“‘Holy shit indeed, dear girl. Thank you for letting me show my care for you so intimately. I adore you, my darling. My beautiful, genderfluid partner. I adore you so, so much,” Aziraphale held Crowley close and kissed her forehead.</p><p class="first-line-none">A lone tear slid down Crowley’s cheek. In her 57 years of life, she never thought someone would care about her. Show her love, respect, and see her for exactly who she was. It was overwhelming and stung a bit, but in the best possible way. Dear Someone did she love Aziraphale with everything she had.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this update took so long! The holidays are quite busy as a pastor. Also, this was the worst holiday season of my life and the thought of writing about Christmas and New Years was unbearable. If you want to know a little bit about me, I encourage you to read my fic "The Bluest Christmas."</p><p>Thank you everyone who reads this story. It means a great deal that I have a place to share something so precious to me. I appreciate each and every comment y'all make. I eagerly await reading them. I love y'all for being on this spiritual journey with me.</p><p>There is one content warning: there is a hospital scene, and homophobic violence is mentioned. There are no graphic details, and the person in the hospital is responsive and talking.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Christmas and New Years came and went. Aziraphale convinced Crowley to help him decorate both his apartment and the cottage. It wasn’t something Crowley had done much of; she never got into the holiday spirit. But Aziraphale made the holidays fun. They laughed, spent long nights by Crowley’s fireplace, enjoying spiked eggnog, hot cocoa, and many festive treats baked by Aziraphale. For the first time since she was a child, Crowley even received a Christmas gift! Aziraphale got Crowley a gift card to their local plant nursery. He felt like it wasn’t enough and a bit of a cop out, but it was exactly what Crowley wanted. It didn’t matter what the gift looked like. She never expected Aziraphale to give her things. But he knew her well enough to understand plants’ significance in her life. Crowley kissed him silly with gratitude. She couldn’t wait to pick out whatever she wanted.</p><p>Crowley finally got Aziraphale a new mattress. It was exactly like Crowley’s, only smaller. Aziraphale was ecstatic and they “broke it in” the moment the bed was made for the first time. It was all hand action. They decided to wait until Aziraphale had top surgery to take their intimacy to oral and vaginal sex; Aziraphale wanted their first time to be when he no longer had to wear a shirt. It would be special. He’d finally feel like he was truly who God made him to be. Crowley was proud of Aziraphale. She was thankful that they were able to be honest about their sexual wants and needs. When the day came, Crowley would do everything to make sure it was a special first time.</p><p>On New Years Eve, Aziraphale and Crowley celebrated Aziraphale’s upcoming top surgery. Aziraphale’s pre-surgery appointment was scheduled for January 11<sup>th</sup>, and his surgery would take place the 15<sup>th</sup>. They’d scheduled and paid for everything at the beginning of December. Aziraphale had all his lab work done, and everything came back fine. He’d stopped his hormone replacement therapy at the doctor’s orders. Aziraphale and Crowley had a long conversation about pre and post-surgery care. Crowley wanted to take care of Aziraphale for the duration of his recovery. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Aziraphale, of course, accepted her kindness. He was thankful he wouldn’t be going this alone. Crowley would go with Aziraphale to his pre-surgery appointment so she could learn everything she needed to know about taking care of him. She would stay with Aziraphale at his apartment for the duration of his recovery. Crowley had suggested the cottage, but Aziraphale had other ideas. Part of the reason was because Aziraphale had a feeling that one day he’d be moving in with Crowley. He’d live with her on Alpha Centauri Lane. Perhaps he was thinking too far ahead, but Aziraphale felt it deep in his gut. He knew it may very well be the last time he’d spend several weeks straight in his apartment. Little did he know that Crowley was thinking the same thing.</p><p>When Aziraphale told Bishop Gabriel that he would be having surgery and his surgeon told him he needed to rest for five weeks, Gabriel was not pleased. He tried everything in his power to block Aziraphale from taking more than two weeks off. Crowley urged Aziraphale to go above his head to the Governing Board. She even dialed the number for him. The Board happily granted his request. They didn’t even bother to ask for the surgeon’s note. Two of the Governing Board members had gender affirming surgeries. They knew and understood the recovery process all too well. Aziraphale was thankful for both Crowley’s push to resist Bishop Gabriel’s bullshit and the Governing Board members who understood him. It felt like a blessing.</p><p>But sometimes blessings came with a curse. Much to Aziraphale’s dismay, Bishop Gabriel told Aziraphale that he would be taking over as “pastor” while Aziraphale was away on medical leave. Aziraphale dreaded the bishop’s presence with his flock. Aziraphale could only pray that Gabriel wouldn’t do too much damage. Who knew what kind of damage might be done? Would it be irreparable? Crowley reminded him that if the bishop pulled anything that they could ruin his career. The thought didn’t make Aziraphale feel much better. He appreciated it all the same. He would just have to wait and see come January 17<sup>th</sup>, Gabriel’s “start date.”</p><p>Until then, Aziraphale had sermons to write, visits to conduct, and his coffee shop office hours to maintain.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>On Saturday morning, Crowley was nestled in the blankets while Aziraphale read scripture next to him. Aziraphale was scribbling on a notepad and clearly deep in thought. In the past three weeks, Aziraphale had been more willing to tell Crowley what he was preaching on, but only when asked. After being able to share his trauma about the Apocrypha, Crowley wanted to engage with Aziraphale on a deeper level. He wanted to have conversations, enjoy banter, give feedback. Aziraphale was excited about this growth in their relationship and made that clear with his wiggles of joy. It felt so good to be able to share about his ministry with his beloved.</p><p>Crowley peeked out from under the blankets and looked at Aziraphale. He shifted until he was nestled up close to him, basking in his angel’s warmth. Sometimes he felt like a snake sunning themself on a rock.</p><p>“Pronouns today, my darling? Do you want your heart or star shaped glasses?” Aziraphale asked before pressing a kiss to Crowley’s forehead.</p><p>“He/him. Stars. What scripture’s your sermon on tomorrow?” Crowley asked.</p><p>Aziraphale picked up Crowley’s star shaped glasses from the nightstand and handed them over. He put them on, stretched and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s fat tummy. Aziraphale set his notepad aside and put his arm around Crowley and squeezed him.</p><p>“Mark 1:4-11. Would you like me to read it aloud, dear boy? Remember, if anything starts to trigger you please say Hogweed.”</p><p>Crowley nodded. “Yeah, lay it on me.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled, wiggled in contentment, and began to read:</p><p>
  <em>John the Baptist appeared in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance of the forgiveness of sins. People of the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins. John was clothed in camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist. He fed on locusts and wild honey. And this is what he proclaimed: “On mightier than I is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals.</em>
</p><p>Crowley giggled when Aziraphale read the word “thongs.” Aziraphale teasingly tapped Crowley’s arm, rolled his eyes, and sighed. Once Crowley settled down, Aziraphale continued on:</p><p>
  <em>I have baptized you with water; he will baptize you with the holy Spirit.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It happened in those days that Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized in the Jordan by John. On coming up out of the water he saw the heavens being torn open and the Spirit, like a dove, descending upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” </em>
</p><p>“Hmm. S’not a bad passage. What’s your angle for tomorrow, dove?”</p><p>Aziraphale beamed at Crowley. “Oh, yes! I will be focusing on the meaning of the moment when the Spirit descends like a dove and God speaks to Jesus. I quite like the image of the Spirit being like a dove and what that means for us who are baptized into the Body of Christ. For Jesus, of course, this began his ministry to us all. But the symbolism is quite rich, and I am rather fond of what a dove represents when reflecting upon our own baptisms.”</p><p>Crowley sat with Aziraphale’s response for a moment. He knew doves were important to Christians and knew they symbolized peace, but there was more to it. “What’s a dove represent to you?”</p><p>“Well, there are several passages of scripture from the Old Testament that talk about doves, but I always think of the dove in Genesis. The dear one that helped Noah.” Aziraphale flipped through his Bible and found the proper passage. “Ah, here we go. Genesis 8:1-12:”</p><p>
  <em>Then Noah released a dove, to see if the waters had lessened on the earth. Bu the dove could find no place to perch, and it returned to him in the ark, for there was water over all the earth. Putting out his hand, he caught the dove and drew it back to him inside the ark. He waited yet seven days more and again released the dove from the ark. In the evening the dove came back to him, and there in its bill was a plucked-off olive leaf! So Noah knew that the waters had diminished on the earth. He waited yet another seven days and then released the dove; but this time it did not come back.”</em>
</p><p>“I hate that story. That whole Noah’s ark business is bloody terrible. God says to build a big boat, fill it with a travelling zoo… Think about the kids. Can’t believe God killed kids…It’s more the kind of thing you’d expect Beez’s lot to do,” Crowley grimaced.</p><p>“Mm-hmm…” Aziraphale pursed his lips and shook his head up and down. He had to admit, the story was pretty disturbing when it came down to it.</p><p>“God was a bit tetchy, it seems, wiping out the locals during that big storm. I certainly don’t believe She was upset with…Oh, let me think here…Certainly not the Chinese. Or the Native Americans, Or the Australians.”</p><p>Crowley snorted at Aziraphale’s anachronistic response. “Sure, angel. Just the locals…”</p><p>“Yes, just the locals. Except of course Noah, up there, his family, and his sons, their wives, they were all fine. And when all was done, God put up a rainbow for the first time, as a promise not to drown everyone again.”</p><p>“How kind,” Crowley’s voice dripped with sarcasm.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “I certainly do not believe the story is real, Crowley. But it does point to the reality, that God’s plans, in a way, are—”</p><p>“Are you going to say ‘ineffable’?”</p><p>“Possibly,” Aziraphale answered quietly. Crowley knew him so well, and he turned pink at the realization. Crowley could figure out what he’d say before it even came out of his mouth. He adored his cute, questioning, and challenging partner.</p><p>“Now that ‘ve made my point that the ark and all that was a load of bullocks, tell me what the dove means here and how you see it in Jesus’ baptism story. S’pose if anyone can find one ounce of hope in such a bloody awful story, ‘s you,” Crowley said.</p><p>Aziraphale leaned down and kissed Crowley on the lips. Some may have thought that was a little squicky, given that Crowley hadn’t gotten up to brush his teeth yet. But Aziraphale, nor Crowley, cared much. Both of them had seen, experienced, and smelled many, many terrible and bizarre things in their lives. Morning breath was low on the scale.</p><p>“Thank you, dear boy. Well, hopefully my perspective about the dove may make things a little less morbid. When I think of this story, the dove represents new life. The beautiful creature brought an olive leaf back to Noah. The water was low enough that life could begin again. They knew in that moment that God was giving them a new life, and they best use Her gift wisely.</p><p>When I think about the Spirit descending on Jesus like a dove, I’m reminded that for Jesus and his followers, baptism means a new life. The symbolic way that the Spirit came to Jesus ushered in his ministry. It was the moment when his life changed forever. This moment changed all those who have come to believe in him. Baptism is not just a ritual. It should never be something a Christian does because it is expected of them. I believe that when we are baptized, we are called to new life. We are like Noah, reaching out and taking the olive leaf from the dove. When the water touches us, we are reaching out to the Holy Spirit and taking the new life that is promised to us. It is a big commitment, and our lives have to change to become more Christ-Like. And if we do not take that ‘leaf’ when we are baptized, then we squander the new life freely given to us by God,” Aziraphale explained.</p><p>Crowley hummed in contemplation. “Maybe I gave the dove a bit of a hard time. Little guy was doing the best he could to give Noah ‘n his family hope. Guess Jesus can do that for some folks too…Baptism’s never somethin’ I’d do, but I like your theology better than baptism being ‘fire insurance.’”</p><p>“The dove certainly did his best. He’s certainly helped me understand the Holy Spirit a little better. And dear boy, I find the belief that baptism is the only way one is saved from the fiery pits of Hell to be downright foolish. I cannot bring myself to believe a baptism means anything if it is done in fear for what may lurk in the afterlife. A baptism is to help us in the here and now, not to guarantee us a spot next to Jesus in Heaven.”</p><p>Crowley appreciated Aziraphale’s answer. Someday in the future they would have to talk about beliefs about the afterlife. But that was a conversation for another time, and one Crowley would certainly come back to. He decided to move their conversation in a more lighthearted direction.</p><p>“Angel?”</p><p>“Yes, dear boy?”</p><p>“You think the Israelites used the ark story to explain why unicorns went extinct? Shem wasn’t paying close enough attention… Some guy in the crowd tried to get his attention,” Crowley pointed in the direction of the bedroom door. “‘Oi, Shem! That unicorn’s gonna make a run for it!’ But it was too late, ‘n all they got was one of ‘em on the ark.”</p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, Crowley, I do believe you’re right. Should I receive questions about the ark in the future, I may just have to do some midrash and add your commentary in.”</p><p>Crowley grinned. “Could add it to a Bible, make your own version.”</p><p>“The ‘Just a J’ edition in the Year of our Lord 2021. Limited copies available,” Aziraphale added.</p><p>Crowley carefully grabbed the Bible out of Aziraphale’s hands and put it on the nightstand. Aziraphale was confused for a moment until Crowley pulled him on top of him. It looked like they’d be in bed a little longer. Aziraphale was quite fine with the development!</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley was relaxing on the couch, trolling fundamentalist Former accounts. He had a KJV Bible on his chest. It was always the one his enemies used, so why not beat them over the head with their own scripture? From time to time, he’d look up as Aziraphale chipped away at his sermon. It always warmed Crowley’s heart to see Aziraphale using the laptop he’d given him. Aziraphale refused to give up his old desktop though. No amount of Crowley badgering him would change his stubborn angel’s mind.</p><p>He grew bored of telling queerphobic wankers off and got up to make Aziraphale a cup of tea. As he set to work finding the right kind, he heard Aziraphale’s work phone go off. Sometimes Aziraphale was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear it ring. Crowley had taken it upon himself to tell his boyfriend it was going off.</p><p>“Hey angel, you’re popular again! Answer your bloody phone!” Crowley yelled as he put the kettle on.</p><p>Crowley’s voice snapped Aziraphale out of his focused state. “Thank you, dear boy!”</p><p>He listened as Aziraphale answered the phone. He spoke in his typical, cheerful tone. But almost immediately, Aziraphale began to speak softly. Crowley stopped his search for tea and watched Aziraphale plop down on the couch. He quickly picked up a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled down some notes. Crowley was about to sit down with Aziraphale on the couch and check in, but the kettle called for him. By the time Crowley had found some tea he deemed good enough for Aziraphale, he heard his boyfriend end the call.</p><p>“Thank you for calling me, Chaplain Caroline. Take care, and I will be there lickety split.”</p><p>Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Whatever the call had been clearly was not good, especially if a chaplain was involved. Crowley set Aziraphale’s teacup on the coffee table and sat next to him. He brought Aziraphale to his chest and ran his fingers through his angel’s soft hair. It always soothed Aziraphale to be touched.</p><p>“What’s wrong, dove? Somethin’ happen to one of your sheep?” Crowley asked softly.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, my oldest congregant is in the hospital. Chaplain Caroline contacted me because he specifically wants to see me. I am his pastor, after all. Spry fellow, but accidents do happen to us all, I’m afraid.”</p><p>“Can I drive you? Be a lot faster than you taking a cab or the bus. Can wait outside for you, ‘f you want. Or come back for you. Whatever you need.”</p><p>“Crowley, I would greatly appreciate it if you took me to the hospital. The dear man may want to meet you for a moment before I conduct our visit. He asks about you quite often. Nearly every Sunday, in fact.”</p><p>Crowley looked puzzled. “You talk about me?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled and blushed. “I have mentioned you in a sermon or two, though not by name. This gentleman knew I met someone special by my sermon examples and remarked that I never looked so happy. Which is certainly true. I suspect he knows that you are my partner now, though we have not spoken of it. He calls you my spiritual friend. Which is, indeed, quite fitting.”</p><p>Crowley snorted. “Spiritual friend. Is that how ‘accepting’ Christians talk about queer couples now? Oh, that’s your ‘spiritual friend’, your ‘soul buddy’, your ‘companion in Christ’?” he joked.</p><p>“Oh Heavens no, Crowley! This man is actually my greatest supporter. And, I know I am not supposed to say this, but he is one of my favorite congregants. I consider this man both a member of my flock and my friend. What he meant by spiritual friend was positive. Traditionally, yes, it has been connected to Christianity, but that is not important to me. Crowley, from my end I believe God put you in my life and gave me the courage to speak to you that first time. Since then, our friendship, our romantic and intimate feelings for each other, every single part of our relationship, has been intentional. We have been committed to each other since the very start, in a way. I felt a bond with you right from the beginning, and it was something I have not experienced in many, many years. Our care for each other, in a way, is a calling. We are called to each other,” Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the spot on Crowley’s chest that was above his heart.</p><p>“And what makes my connection to you spiritual, Crowley, is that I have been able to open up to you. You are my safe person, dear boy. You’ve given me the space to be vulnerable. As a pastor, and…Well, you know my history…You listen when I speak of things I haven’t spoken of in many years. With you, my darling, I feel seen. This is why my congregant is right. You are my spiritual friend, and my spiritual partner. Christianity has nothing to do with the way you make my soul feel alive.”</p><p>Crowley held Aziraphale tighter. He didn’t know how to respond. Being Aziraphale’s spiritual partner made sense. Crowley did believe there was probably Someone or Something out there. Did God have a role in their calling to each other? Who knew. But Aziraphale was right; they had been drawn to each other by something powerful. Crowley certainly felt called, in a way, to love and care for Aziraphale. Spoil him rotten. Be there for him when life was good and when life sucked. Encourage him to be true to himself. And, of course, argue about the Bible and theology from time to time. Couldn’t let Daddy Aziraphale off the hook, after all.</p><p>“S’pose so…But only if my questions, bantering, and bickering about Bible, theology, ‘n scripture is part of the deal.”</p><p>“Oh dear boy, of course it is. What would a deep relationship be if we couldn’t talk about such things? And, I believe I have said this to you in the past, your questioning mind is one of the most beautiful parts of who you are. You ask questions I’ve not dared to ask. You say the things that I am often thinking…But in my vocation, I find myself censoring my thoughts quite often. The way you challenge me, give me pause, make me think…I am in awe of you, darling. You are my spiritual partner in your entirety, and I could not be more thankful for you.”</p><p>Aziraphale felt the words ‘I love you’ on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back. This wasn’t the time. It would have been the truth, certainly. But it was too soon. He didn’t want to scare Crowley away. And given what Aziraphale and Crowley were about to do, emotions were too high for such a powerful confession. Those three big words would come when they came.</p><p>Crowley gently titled Aziraphale’s chin up and kissed him. It was a tender kiss, filled with care and affection that flooded Aziraphale’s soul with warmth.</p><p>“Don’t really know what to say, s’not a bad thing. All ‘ve got right now is that I agree with you. Really glad I’ve got you, dove. Never was happy ‘til I met you. Now we should probably get going to visit your sheep. He needs his Daddy Aziraphale.”</p><p>Aziraphale sighed in feigned exasperation. “You will be the end of me, darling. It looks as though this Daddy needs to put his clerical shirt and collar on.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As Aziraphale and Crowley made their way up to the congregant’s hospital room, Crowley looked closely at his partner. He was dressed in a long sleeve, rose colored clerical shirt. He wore a cream-colored cardigan, light brown slacks, and his favorite brown oxfords. Aziraphale was wearing a button on his cardigan. It was the transgender flag with “he/him/his” written on it. Crowley had never seen him wear it before and wondered why he chose to at this moment. His attention shifted from Aziraphale’s physical appearance to his energy. Aziraphale was calm, and he had a gentle, warm smile on his face. He greeted every single person they walked past. He radiated a warming, calming energy that lit up the hallway. Crowley was surprised at how easy it was for Aziraphale to go from being anxious and nervous in the Bentley to calm and collected in a hospital. Was it a pastor thing or an Aziraphale thing? Maybe both, but he wasn’t sure.</p><p>When they reached room 222, Aziraphale gently knocked on the door.</p><p>“Come in,” a loud, booming voice said. Crowley was a little startled by it. He didn’t expect a hospitalized congregant to sound so strong and sure. It was a little intimidating!</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley stepped into the hospital room. It was fortunately a room with only one bed. There was a bench that a guest could lay down on, two chairs, and a recliner. His elderly congregant appeared to be resting comfortably. He had a big smile on his face the moment he saw Aziraphale.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, thank you so much for coming! Chaplain Caroline wasted no time calling you, I see. Now maybe I’m wrong, but I have a feeling this is your spiritual friend,” the man grinned at Crowley.</p><p>Crowley took in the man’s appearance. He had a stocky, strong build. He had an olive complexion, eyes so brown they appeared black, and was bald. He had a silver beard that was neatly groomed. The man was quite handsome.</p><p>Aziraphale beamed at the man. “Well, you are partly correct. I do believe the title needs to be changed to ‘spiritual partner’ now.” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Now where are my manners! Joshua, this is my partner, Crowley. Crowley, this is Joshua.”</p><p>Crowley gave Aziraphale’s hand one last squeeze before he extended his hand to Joshua. Joshua quickly took his hand and shook it with gusto. He was clearly excited to see Crowley.</p><p>“It is a blessing to meet you, Crowley. Now please, Pastor Fell, bring those chairs over and sit by me. It’s so good to have you both here this evening. Thanks for coming for a visit,” Joshua let go of Crowley’s hand and pointed to two chairs.</p><p>“Uh…S’nice to meet you, Joshua, but I’m gonna leave you two to visit. Don’t want to intrude on time with your pastor. I’ll be in that little coffee shop downstairs, angel. No hurry.”</p><p>Before Aziraphale or Joshua could respond, Crowley kissed Aziraphale on the cheek and slipped out of the room. He couldn’t stand to be in that room for one more minute.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After Crowley’s abrupt exit, Aziraphale pulled up a chair and sat next to Joshua. He took one of Joshua’s hands in his and leaned close. “Joshua, thank you for contacting me. May I ask what happened?”</p><p>Joshua sighed. “I was in my workshop making a shelf for Kora and Adelaide. Their anniversary is coming up and I thought a hand-crafted gift would be nice. I was getting some varnish off a high shelf and I fell off my stepladder. Landed wrong and broke my hip. Even being in good shape doesn’t stop you from getting old, Pastor Fell.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded and looked at him with sympathy.</p><p>Joshua continued. “My goddaughter, you remember Valerie, keeps telling me I need to slow down. But Pastor Fell, carpentry is the one thing that has given me joy since I retired way back when. Now though…” Joshua’s eyes began to well with tears. He motioned for Aziraphale to hand him a tissue. Once the tissue was in Joshua’s hand, the dam broke, and he sobbed.</p><p>Aziraphale had never seen him cry before. Joshua, being a 90 year old man, grew up in a time when crying wasn’t an option. He’d always had to hide his pain. He also had become a caregiver, doing anything and everything for others in need. Joshua was always the comforting presence. He was gifted in pastoral care. He visited anyone in who was in the hospital, took food and gifts to his fellow churchgoers who were going tough times. Now it was Joshua’s turn to receive care. But Aziraphale knew his tears were not because he had to accept help; it was grappling with the reality of what may come. Aziraphale continued to hold his hand and sat in silence.</p><p>After quite a long time and a few more tissues, Joshua was able to speak again. “Pastor Fell…You know what happens to most of us old timers who break a hip. I know you do. Mine is one of the worst cases they’ve seen in a long time... I’m going to have to go to fast-track rehab, and who knows if I’m going to be able to go home again. It’s a lot to take in, Pastor Fell. No matter what happens when I get out of this hospital bed, my life’s never going to be the same,” Joshua sniffled.</p><p>“I am praying for a good outcome, Joshua.”</p><p>Joshua nodded. “I do too, but I know miracles don’t happen. Whatever happens to me, happens. God isn’t going to fix this. A lot has happened in my life, Pastor Fell…” he sighed. “Hoping for a good outcome isn’t really why I want you here tonight. I…”</p><p>Aziraphale listened carefully. <em>Miracles don’t happen. </em>He wasn’t expecting Joshua to say that. Miracles had always been something Aziraphale struggled with. They seemed few and far between, given out with no rhyme or reason. Had Aziraphale ever experienced a miracle? He couldn’t think of one. God didn’t miraculously heal him the times he was left for dead. Aziraphale would carry those scars his whole life. He didn’t heal Christopher from AIDS and didn’t alleviate his suffering. Maybe Joshua was right; miracles weren’t a thing after all. Aziraphale would be reflecting on that for a good, long time. Perhaps it would be a topic he and Crowley could discuss.</p><p>“Pastor Fell… It’s not easy for me to say, but I believe this may very well be my final punishment from God... I fell short so many times, Pastor. Everything went wrong after <em>it</em> happened…” Joshua swallowed hard.</p><p>Aziraphale felt sick inside. Joshua was a good man. He couldn’t fathom God punishing Joshua. How could he believe God broke his hip to destroy the pleasure he found in crafting for others?! Sadly, Aziraphale was all too familiar with the theology. Never good enough for God. Always falling short, always a failure…Not worthy of God’s love and compassion. Joshua had exuded such a Christ-like love. It made Aziraphale’s head spin to think Joshua did not believe that love extended to himself.</p><p>Joshua continued. “I know this isn’t something we do, but can I confess my sin to you, Pastor Fell?”</p><p>Aziraphale squeezed his hand and nodded. “Of course. And I promise, what you share will not leave this hospital room.”</p><p>“I was a coward. I met a kind man when I was in my early 20s…The 1950s. Not a great time to be people like us, Pastor Fell. I was just starting my carpentry business, and he was a mechanic. We became fast friends after I took my car to his shop. It became ‘more’ in a short time. But I broke his heart and betrayed him, Pastor Fell.</p><p>People in our town figured out he was…Different. He wore makeup from time to time and grew out his hair. The other men in town noticed I spent time with him and started to harass me. I was afraid for my reputation, Pastor Fell. I supported him when we were together privately, but I couldn’t find the bravery to be with him publicly. I denied him three times like Peter denied Jesus. But Pastor Fell, it wasn’t a rooster who crowed…It was his screams. I s-stood there while he was beaten within an inch of his life. I never visited him in the hospital, and I never saw him again. He left town when he recovered. I cannot be forgiven for what I did, and it has followed me all of my life. God has punished me for these 70 years, and I deserve this too.”</p><p>Aziraphale started to speak, but Joshua stopped him.</p><p>“Now Pastor Fell, I don’t want you to respond to what I’ve told you.”</p><p>There was a long silence between them. They both closed their eyes and sat with Joshua’s confession. Aziraphale wanted so badly to recommend a book about God’s place in suffering or assure him that he had been forgiven for what he did. But he knew he had to respect Joshua’s wishes. This was his confession. It would be on his terms. When Joshua sensed the time was right, he opened his eyes and patted Aziraphale’s hand.</p><p>“Thank you for listening, Pastor Fell. I’m glad God brought you to us.”</p><p>“Thank you for sharing what was on your heart, Joshua. It is an honor and privilege to be trusted with the pain and regrets of another’s life. Before I go, would you like to pray together?”</p><p>Joshua shook his head no. “Do you have your pocket Bible?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Good. I want you to read Job 7:17-21 to me. That’s the prayer on my heart today,” Joshua responded.</p><p>Aziraphale was not surprised after Joshua’s confession and his perception of the cause of his injury. Though, unlike Job, Joshua thought he was guilty and deserved the suffering that came his way. It was a tough pill for Aziraphale to swallow. He would be processing this for quite some time, he knew.</p><p>He took his pocket Bible out of his pocket and flipped to Job:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>“What are people, that you should make so much of us,<br/>    that you should think of us so often?<br/>For you examine us every morning<br/>    and test us every moment.<br/>Why won’t you leave me alone,<br/>    at least long enough for me to swallow!<br/>If I have sinned, what have I done to you,<br/>    O watcher of all humanity?<br/>Why make me your target?<br/>    Am I a burden to you? <br/>Why not just forgive my sin<br/>    and take away my guilt?<br/>For soon I will lie down in the dust and die.<br/>    When you look for me, I will be gone.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Joshua said quietly. He looked closely at Aziraphale for a moment, and his eyes drifted to Aziraphale’s button. He smiled. “Valerie made that for you, Pastor Fell. I’d like to have her make one for Crowley, too. Could you jot down the flag and pronouns Crowley uses so I can get one or two made?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “Absolutely, Joshua. Thank you for thinking of us both. And I am going to write down my personal phone number. I will be taking medical leave for several weeks, but you are very important to me. I will continue to check in with you, and please call me when things develop. I almost forgot to ask, would you like me to bring communion to you after church tomorrow?”</p><p>“Yes, please. Come by around 2. I will be awake and lunch will be finished by then.” Joshua reached out to Aziraphale once more, Aziraphale took his hand in his and looked into Joshua’s eyes. Tears were threatening to spill again.</p><p>In a soft, shaky voice, Joshua spoke once more. “I love you, Pastor Fell. Not just as my pastor, but as my friend.”</p><p>“I love you too, Joshua. And I very much feel the same.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale met Crowley in the café. Well over an hour had passed. Crowley always tried to hide his feelings in public, but it was clear to Aziraphale that something was troubling him. Aziraphale was tired from the deep listening he did with Joshua, but Aziraphale had enough energy to listen to Crowley. Aziraphale sat down across from him and took his hands in his.</p><p>“Dear boy, may I ask why you left so abruptly? We don’t have to talk about this now, but I can tell something is the matter,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>Crowley looked around, and he saw there were no other customers in the café. He breathed a sigh of relief. In the quiet and semi-privacy of the shop, Crowley felt safe enough to talk.</p><p>“Seeing Joshua’s room reminded me of Tracy. Was with her the last days of her life, when she was in the hospice wing at a hospital. Cancer, y’know how that turns out. I slept on a li’l bench like the one in his room… I was her only family, ‘n she was mine. Just couldn’t deal with bein’ in that room today, s’all,” Crowley answered.</p><p>Aziraphale brought Crowley’s hands up to his lips and kissed them. “I’m thankful you took care of yourself, dear boy. It was the right decision to leave the room, and I assure you that I will tell him that you were happy to see him. Thank you for bringing me here and coming with me. It means a great deal that you did.”</p><p>“‘Course. And I promise I’ll be okay. Memories are just hard sometimes.”</p><p>“I couldn’t agree more. Let’s go back to mine, darling. I do believe a bubble bath and cuddles are in order. Perhaps you will allow me to paint your piggies again?”</p><p>Crowley grinned and rolled his eyes. “I would love it if you painted my <em>toenails</em>, Aziraphale.”</p><p>They laughed, and Crowley and Aziraphale left the hospital hand in hand. There was a lot to think about, but that could wait. Self-care together was exactly what they needed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Biblical translations used:</p><p>Mark 1:4-11 and Gen 8:1-12 (New American Bible Revised Edition- NABRE)</p><p>Job 7:17-21 (New Living Translation-NLT)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for your patience, dear readers &lt;3. These past few weeks have been...Intense to say the least. I have read your comments over and over lately. They've helped more than you know. I always look forward to reading what y'all write to me. I love you!</p><p>This is a long chapter, and a happy one. Aziraphale finally has top surgery! Nothing is graphic, and Aziraphale will have NO complications. His surgery goes well and there is no angst surrounding it. His surgery experience is based off of mine. I had top surgery in 2015 and it was one of the best things I've ever done. Every transgender person's journey is different, and this was mine.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale made sure to give one of his queerest sermons before he left on medical leave. He knew that Bishop Gabriel would give shitty sermons dedicated to “orthodoxy” and “right teachings.” Since he’d be away a good while, Aziraphale decided the time was now to outright defy Gabriel’s criticisms. After he defended himself back in November, Aziraphale grew bolder and more confident in his ability to challenge the Bishop. One of the ways would be this sermon. He wanted his flock to have something beautiful to cling to while he was gone.</p><p>For that Sunday’s scripture, Aziraphale asked a new attender to read. Her name was Paula. She recently came out as a transgender woman during their joys and concerns time. The congregation cheered for her, and the next Sunday Aziraphale made a cake with her new name on it. A few folks took her shopping, a drag queen gave her a beautiful black wig to wear as her hair grew out, and the congregation worked hard to make sure they used her name and pronouns. Paula excitedly took Aziraphale up on his request. It filled him tremendous joy and pride to watch Paula come up to the pulpit and read the sacred text. Especially because it was one of Aziraphale’s favorites.</p><p>In a deep voice with a lilt, Paula read Mark 5:25-34:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A woman was there who had been bleeding for twelve years.</em>
  <em> She had suffered a lot under the care of many doctors, and had spent everything she had without getting any better. In fact, she had gotten worse. Because she had heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his clothes.She was thinking, If I can just touch his clothes, I’ll be healed. Her bleeding stopped immediately, and she sensed in her body that her illness had been healed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At that very moment, Jesus recognized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and said, </em>
  <em>“Who touched my clothes?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His disciples said to him, “Don’t you see the crowd pressing against you? Yet you ask, ‘Who touched me?’”</em>
  <em> But Jesus looked around carefully to see who had done it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The woman, full of fear and trembling, came forward. Knowing what had happened to her, she fell down in front of Jesus and told him the whole truth.</em>
  <em> He responded, “Daughter, your faith has healed you; go in peace, healed from your disease.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Once Paula took her seat, Aziraphale slowly walked up to the pulpit. He took a drink of water from a cup tucked away in the pulpit’s shelf before he began. This would be one of the most personal sermons he’d ever delivered. Aziraphale didn’t want to mess it up by having a dry mouth. He took a deep, calming breath and began.</p><p>
  <em>When I imagine the bleeding woman, I see myself in her pain. As a transgender man, I understand what it feels like to be deemed by religious and spiritual people as unclean. In many religious spaces, I have not been welcome. I have been threatened by Christians who deemed my very existence a sin against God. I have been a pariah too. I do not want you all to forget that my queer siblings still experience this. Our denomination—The Beloved Disciples—does not fully protect us. There are still people in positions of leadership who do their very best to keep my people out of the pulpit. There are people in our churches who make us feel unwelcome and unwanted. It is an unfortunate truth. As your pastor, I want you to remember that my existence as a transgender man of faith has been difficult. Being an openly transgender man has hindered my ability to find a church that would call me. Our denomination contains many churches who saw me as a hindrance to spreading the Gospel. I have been rejected many times. I must admit this to you. I feel the bleeding woman’s rejection every time I remember the ways I have been hurt, rejected, and negated. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>However, it is not only her pain that I find a connection with. I also feel her courage, power, and desire to live. She risked almost everything to touch Jesus’ clothes. There were many in the crowd. The disciples tell us so: “Don’t you see the crowd pressing against you?” Instead of putting the religious comfort of the people around her as top priority, the bleeding woman took a great risk. She decided that it was worth risking everything for potential healing. In my perception, the woman knew deep within herself that she was not unclean and deserved better than twelve years of suffering.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her courage flows through the very fibers of my being. I know what it is like to push against the religious tides. To be openly transgender, a Christian, and a pastor is to push against the idea that I am unclean. In our denomination, there is a tendency to negate the experiences of my people. We do not wish to, as they say, “rock the canoe.” However, as the Body of Christ we must openly and candidly talk about gender and sexuality. We must remember that queer people are an important and beautiful part of God’s diversity. For those of you in this sanctuary today who are not queer, I hope you are listening. I pray that you will look at your own discomfort with my community. I pray that you will become aware of your biases, your assumptions, and your stereotypes. Listen to our stories. Truly hear us. Do not treat us the way the bleeding woman was treated.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I encourage us to remember that there is a blessing in this story, too. Jesus gives us a compelling example of how to live in the world. He wanted to know who touched his clothes. The woman, no longer bleeding, showed her face. This, dear ones, was a tremendous act of courage on her part. Do not forget that. She came to the forefront and let herself be known. How did Jesus respond? With pure love and tenderness. He said “Daughter, your faith has healed you; go in peace, healed from your disease.” Jesus was not concerned with being unclean, made impure when she touched him. Jesus instead loved her. He wanted to know who she was so he could bless her. Jesus saw her for who she was, as a whole person. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I always remember with a deep fondness and joy all the church members who treated me as Jesus treated the bleeding woman. My story mattered. They wanted to hear about my journey as a transgender Christian. They wanted to know the complexities of my life and who I am. I am thankful that I have found a place within our faith tradition. Many of my transgender friends have not been given the same treatment. While I know they receive the endless love and acceptance of God, they have not felt God’s love and acceptance in their churches, regardless of affiliation. I am one of the few who have remained in the church. It is brave to stay. And, dear ones, do not forget that it is also brave to leave.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As we move into Waiting Worship, I ask us to think of the queer people in our lives. How have we treated them? Who are we in this story? Who will we be? And to my beloved queer siblings, I do not want you to forget that you are brave, powerful, and loved unconditionally. We are the bleeding woman, and we are always worthy of love.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>After Waiting Worship came to an end, Aziraphale looked at those gathered in the sanctuary. Queer and cis-het members and attenders alike were tearing up. Some were smiling. Others looked deep in thought, but not in a concerning way. His gaze landed on a family he didn’t expect to see: Beau with their parents, Vernon and Evelyn. They were on either side of Beau, holding them tight in their arms. Evelyn was crying into Beau’s hair. Vernon was whispering something to Beau. There was a soft smile on the man’s rugged face. Beau’s eyes were closed; they were smiling, tears were rolling down their cheeks, and they appeared at peace. Love radiated from them. Aziraphale could feel it, and it took everything he had to keep himself from crying. The tears would have to wait until he was in Crowley’s embrace.</p><p>When the silence ended, Aziraphale presided over communion. This time, Aziraphale brought the cup and bread to each person rather than calling people up. Given the message and his coming leave, Aziraphale wanted to serve them more personally.</p><p>Once communion concluded, Aziraphale waited a few moments before he proceeded to announcements. The congregation was already aware that he was leaving for a while, but he needed to remind them again. He didn’t want to leave them. Quite frankly, Aziraphale was rather terrified of what Bishop Gabriel would do in his absence. However, the weeks away would be worth it, and he was itching to have his procedure.</p><p>“You have all seen this announcement if you have read our weekly newsletter, but I must remind you that I will be on medical leave for five weeks. After many years, with the help of my partner Crowley, I am finally able to afford top surgery. I ask that you hold me in prayer on January 15<sup>th</sup>, as that is when my surgery will take place. I also ask that you continue to pray for me as I recover from the procedure. Bishop Gabriel will be leading worship while I am recovering. If you are in need of my care, Bishop Gabriel requires you to first call him. He will relay your message to me, and I will do my best to connect with you,” Aziraphale said before leading the congregation in a final prayer.</p><p>During the fellowship time after the service, Beau ran up to Aziraphale and gave him a big hug. “Pastor Fell, I loved your message!” They exclaimed as they clung tightly to him.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled down at them and ruffled their hair. “It’s delightful to see you here today, Beau!” He looked up at Beau’s parents and smiled. “Pleasure to have you here as well, Vernon and Evelyn.”</p><p>Evelyn joined Beau in hugging Aziraphale. Her tears were still flowing, and they stained Aziraphale’s clerical garments. Vernon looked a little lost before he settled on patting Aziraphale on the back.</p><p>Aziraphale could’ve sworn the hug lasted for several minutes before they finally pulled away. Vernon offered his wife a tissue, and she wiped her eyes. Beau continued to beam at him.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, we’ve been reading the devotional you recommended to us,” Vernon said.</p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t help but give them a big smile. “What is your perception of <em>Transfigured </em>so far?”</p><p>Beau answered. “We’ve been reading it together before I go to bed. It’s helped me feel better about the Bible…It’s also been good to find something that gets the voice of Reverend Augustine out of my head. Sometimes I still hear him but this book’s helping drown him out.”</p><p>Vernon and Evelyn nodded. “Pastor Fell, I know that we still have a long way to go. You told the truth in your sermon today. I know I can speak for Vernon too when I say we still struggle and are not where we want to be. But your recommendation has made us think a lot about what we believe. Pastor Fell, thank you for all you have done for our family,” Evelyn said.</p><p>“She took the words right out of my mouth,” Vernon said and smiled at his wife and child. “Would you be willing to give us your address? We’d like to bring you some meals while you recover from surgery.”</p><p>“Thank you very much for all you’ve shared today. I am deeply grateful for your presence here. I am certainly grateful for Beau, who brought us all together. And of course, let me retrieve a business card. I will put my address and my personal number on the back. Do give me a call to let me know when you plan to arrive. My partner may answer, so if you hear a different voice that is why.”</p><p>Beau, Evelyn, and Vernon were the last people to leave. As soon as Aziraphale was alone, he burst into tears. It was moments like this when Aziraphale knew why he was called to be a pastor. His difficult journey of transitioning and fighting for his place was worth it.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s pre-op appointment went without a hitch. Doctor Rivera gave him all the necessary details and drew on his skin to show where incisions would be. Aziraphale would have a bilateral mastectomy and his nipples would be reshaped, repositioned, and grafted back on. She reminded him to wear a very loose, button-down shirt to and from the hospital. Crowley had already gone out and bought him several shirts that were a size 3x—a size larger than he normally wore—so he would be comfortable. He was to return for his post-op appointment a week later. The drains and nipple graft bolsters would be removed, and he’d get to see his chest.</p><p>Sure, Aziraphale was a little nervous; surgery was a big deal! He was also dreading not being able to take a proper shower for an entire week. Baby wipes with Crowley’s assistance would have to do. But he was ready. Beyond ready, in fact. The decades of wanting top surgery were finally coming to an end. Aziraphale knew his transition would finally feel complete. At last, he’d be truly comfortable in his skin. No more binders. Sure, he’d have to wear a compression garment for a few weeks after surgery, but that was nothing. It would be worth it. No more avoiding looking at his chest in the mirror. No more tears in the shower when the dysphoria became excruciating. No more wearing a shirt during intimacy with the person he loved. Aziraphale would finally feel that he was exactly who God made him to be.</p><p>Crowley was incredible during the appointment. He asked tons of questions. How were drains to be cleaned? How long would Aziraphale need assistance getting up from bed or the couch to use the restroom? What were the best ways to keep him comfortable? What bandages and medical tape were best? How many hours between Norco doses to keep the pain at bay? Doctor Rivera was impressed with Crowley, and she said so. Aziraphale was too. He was beyond thankful. Most of all, he knew Crowley was a treasure and a blessing. Aziraphale would never, ever forget how special his beloved was.</p><p>Come Friday, they were both as ready as they were going to be.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Crowley used she/her pronouns the day of Aziraphale’s procedure. The outpatient surgery was scheduled early in the morning—7am—and she decided to dress comfortably. She wore the light blue sweater she’d taken from Aziraphale before they became official. It became one of her prized possessions. Aziraphale made sure to wear it the day prior so it would smell like him. She’d need the comfort while she waited for him in surgery. To make the sweater a little more feminine, she wore a black belt on her midsection. Crowley wore a pair of black leggings with black ankle boots to complete the look.</p><p>With great relief, she was able to sit beside him until he was wheeled away for the procedure.</p><p>“How are you feeling, dove?” Crowley asked. She held Aziraphale’s right hand and pressed a kiss to it.</p><p>Aziraphale looked at her and smiled. “Dear girl, I must admit I am a little annoyed. The interaction with the nurse was rather unpleasant. I told her right from the start that trying to put an IV in my hand would not work. I explained that my arm is best, and yet she still poked me numerous times in my hand!”</p><p>“Seemed to listen after I hissed at her.”</p><p>“Indeed she did…” Aziraphale sighed. “I will never understand why she ignored me. Perhaps it is my ‘doctor-induced blood pressure.’ But at any rate, I am thankful that you’re with me. It is nice to know that I have you on my side.”</p><p>Crowley rubbed Aziraphale’s hand gently with her thumb. “Always will, y’know. You’re stuck with me,” she smiled.</p><p>Aziraphale leaned over and kissed her. “As you are with me, my darling.”</p><p>They were silent for a moment. For a moment Aziraphale felt a wave of heaviness wash over him. He looked closely at Crowley. She was worrying her lip and looking down. Aziraphale didn’t want to push, but he needed to know what was wrong.</p><p>“Crowley, you look concerned. Will you tell me what’s the matter?”</p><p>She looked down for a moment before meeting her partner’s gaze. “Guess I’m just worried. Had a few trans women friends back in the day who found some…Less than great doctors who’d do the surgeries they needed. One of ‘em didn’t make it out alive, Aziraphale. The others had bad complications. Don’t want anything to happen to you,” she admitted.</p><p>He squeezed her hand. “I must admit that I’m rather nervous as well, if my blood pressure reveals that to you. Dear girl, I’m so sorry to hear about your friends. It certainly has never been easy for us to access gender affirming surgeries, but to know that your friends suffered at the</p><p>hands of people looking for financial gain is horrendous. I understand your worry, and I share it. But I know I’ve chosen a surgeon who truly cares. Her work has been near impeccable. I have full faith in her abilities,” Aziraphale assured.</p><p>Crowley moved closer and put her head on his shoulder. “Doesn’t always matter how good a surgeon is, angel…Probably shouldn’t be bringing this up now.”</p><p>Aziraphale leaned into her touch. The scent of Crowley’s rose-scented shampoo soothed him. “Perhaps we should’ve had this conversation sooner, but it needs to happen.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “If something should happen to me, I have you as my emergency contact. We took the time to make sure that any difficult decisions that may have to be made will be made by you. I trust you fully and without hesitation.”</p><p>“I know, just…What do you want? If…Things go pear shaped ‘n I lose you,” she said, her voice trembling.</p><p>“I have detailed instructions of what I would like for my funeral and how to handle my body in the bottom left-hand desk drawer. The one at my apartment. It is in a manilla folder. The order of service is in there. Songs, scripture, and structure are all taken care of. I have already paid for my cremation, and I trust you will pick the right urn for me. I do not have a burial plot chosen, however…I never have quite figured out where I would like to be buried. Or, perhaps, scattered. I would be satisfied either way. I trust you to make that decision.</p><p>Crowley, the <em>most</em> important thing you must know is that I would like Brother Francis Ashtoreth to officiate my funeral. Brother Francis is aware of this, and he, too, has my plans. I know we have not yet spoken about him. But he is, to be transparent, my only colleague in the diocese that I have been accepted by. Both of us have been treated rather poorly, I’m afraid. We do not communicate as often as I’d like—he avoids the weekly sessions with the other pastors,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>Crowley did her best not to cry. “Promise I’ll do what you want, angel. I lo—” she was cut off by the surgical team.</p><p>She was able to give him a quick kiss and say goodbye before the anesthesia was administered. Crowley was ushered out of the room as soon as Aziraphale was wheeled away.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Crowley sat down in the waiting room, she opened her purse. She pulled out a small sketch pad. Writing up notes and sketching the progress of her plants would soothe her. As she brought it out, a folder piece of paper fell to the floor. Crowley didn’t remember jotting down any notes. She picked it up and opened it. Much to her surprise, it was a letter from Aziraphale. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>My Beloved Crowley,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In my decades’ long vocation, I have heard many people express regret about not saying what they needed to say. Perhaps I should have said what I am about to say verbally. My darling, I do plan to express myself to you through words. Yet I know well enough that what is planned may not always come to be. Should this procedure go awry, I do not want to end my earthly days without you knowing precisely how I feel about you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Every single moment we spend together is a gift. I remember fondly every time we’ve gone on a drive—though, my darling, I should not have to hold the “oh shoot” handle as often as I do. I adore your mischief, even when I give you admonishing looks and call you a “foul fiend.” I would never want you to change, my darling. Fill your “mischief meter” until it is full, even overflowing. You may think you are a bit of a bastard—you most certainly are—but you must know that much of your mischief is done for the sake of helping others. I cherish that about you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I think warmly of how we were going on dates even before we called them by that name. I wanted you more than words could express that night at the theatre…In that beautiful black dress. My darling you are always breathtaking; you do not need me to tell you that. But you are even more breathtaking when you wear my blue sweater. Knowing that you are wearing it while I am having my procedure is a delight for me. It reminds me of how you have chosen me, just as I have chosen you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My dear heart, I adore the meals we share, especially the ones you have cooked for me. I smile to myself when I think of all the intimacy we’ve shared since the beginning—holding your hand, hugs and caresses, kisses, nights of passion, mornings of affection, afternoons of delights (yes, dear partner, I have heard you listen to that song and sing along.). Which leads me to tell you how much I love when you sing your bebop tunes. Whether we are out on the town, traveling to another place to enjoy the sights and sounds, or curled up on our respective couches together, I am in pure bliss. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Crowley, I am blessed beyond measure to be your partner. I cannot recall a time in my life where I have been so happy. I delight when I awake and see your beautiful face, slack with sleep. I adore the way your hair swirls around you. My greatest delight is when I am sitting up, reading a book, and you curl up next to me. Wrap yourself around me like a serpent. You make me feel safe, my beloved. I do not think anyone has ever made me feel safe and secure the way you do. I did not realize how dull my life was until I met you. You have given me the world, my darling.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am in love with you. I love you, I love you, I love you. May I be able to say this with my hand in yours someday.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ever Yours,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A tear rolled down Crowley’s cheek and splashed onto the page. No matter what happened, Crowley was grateful she’d always have this confession of love. She wished she’d had the chance to finish her sentence before the team took Aziraphale back for surgery. To know Aziraphale loved her and she didn’t get to say it in return hurt. But she just had to hope that everything would go just fine. Her angel would be, as he’d say, “tickety-boo” and they’d go home. She’d dote on him, make sure he was well cared for. When he’d had a proper rest and came down from the anesthesia, she’d kiss him silly and tell him she loved him too.</p><p>“Angel, I am in love with you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispered to herself. Crowley didn’t get any sketching done; instead, she read his letter over and over again.</p><p>She could hardly believe when the three hours of waiting came to an end. Crowley was told the surgery went well and Aziraphale was in good spirits. The anesthesia was causing him to act rather silly, but other than that all was well. Crowley couldn’t help the devilish grin that formed. She wasn’t going to let Aziraphale live this down.</p><p>Crowley got out her cellphone and started video recording as soon as she walked into Aziraphale’s room.</p><p>“Dove, ‘m here,” Crowley said as she held the phone in his direction. Aziraphale beamed at her and the healthcare professionals in the room. As he shared his warm, angelic smile with everyone, Crowley took her seat next to Aziraphale’s hospital bed. She, of course, did not stop filming.</p><p>“Dear girl, have you seen all of the angels here? Look at them all, so many!” Aziraphale pointed to each of the health professionals in the room.” May God bless you, and you, and you, and…” Aziraphale booped Crowley’s nose, “YOU!” Aziraphale giggled.</p><p>Crowley blushed. “Bless the lot, sure…But Aziraphale, you know you’re the only <em>true </em>angel.”</p><p>Aziraphale gasped. “Oh <em>Crowley</em>, you wily serpent, you! We’re all angels here! Well, except maybe that nurse from earlier…The way she poked me was truly the work of a demon!”</p><p>She nearly dropped her phone from laughing so hard. Once Aziraphale had come back to his senses (more or less), Crowley turned it off. She didn’t want to capture the syrupy affection to follow. Had a reputation to keep, after all! Crowley pressed a kiss to his temple and rubbed his hair.</p><p>“So glad you’re back with me, dove. Now they say once you can get up and piss I can bust you out of here. Ready to try?”</p><p>“I never thought I would be so happy to wake up…And must you be so crass, darling?”</p><p>“Always, or I wouldn’t be me,” she winked.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Crowley got Aziraphale back to the apartment, she helped him into his compression vest and changed him into a comfier shirt. Once that was taken care of, Aziraphale asked to rest in bed. She guided him to the bed and helped him settle in. Crowley brought a glass of water and the bottle of Norco and put it on the nightstand. She set an alarm for every four hours on her phone. The regimen would, hopefully, keep Aziraphale pain free until the prescription ran out. She also kept the anti-nausea meds close by in case Aziraphale needed them.</p><p>Crowley went to lay down next to him when suddenly she heard loud knock on the door.</p><p>She carefully slipped off the bed and stormed to the door. They’d agreed to leave the downstairs door unlocked during the day and early evenings in case folks wanted to drop by. Crowley wasn’t happy with this, but it was what Aziraphale wanted. This was his surgery and his recovery, and she would do it his way.</p><p>Crowley opened the door and snarled, “Oi! What in the bloody Someone do you wan—Oh.”</p><p>A startled Newt and unphased Anathema looked back at her. Newt nearly dropped the box he was holding but managed to collect himself before it fell.</p><p>“Just got back from the hospital. Angel’s resting,” Crowley said.</p><p>Anathema nodded. “We gave you enough time to get Pastor Fell settled in. Agnes told us exactly when to show up. We’ve got important gifts for his recovery!”</p><p>Crowley rolled her eyes. She would never understand the whole “Agnes Nutter” business, but at least she was right. Crowley had plenty of time to get her beloved settled in. She could even hear him snoring. That was music to her ears. Aziraphale was clearly not aware of the intrusion and he was at peace. Crowley visibly relaxed.</p><p>Newt breathed a sigh of relief at Crowley’s change in posture. He gave her a sheepish smile. “Hey Crowley, before I show you everything, can I ask what your pronouns are?”</p><p>She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Pronouns are she/her today. May be different next time you see me, just ask.”</p><p>Anathema smacked her forehead. “I KNEW I was forgetting to ask something!”</p><p>“S’okay. Newt, you’re the first person ‘sides Aziraphale who’s asked me that. Uh, thanks.”</p><p>Newt smiled. “My favorite cousin is genderfluid, so I’ve had some practice. He actually helped us put this together. We wanted to make things a little better for Pastor Fell while he recovered but we weren’t sure what to do. Top surgery isn’t something I know much about,” he admitted.</p><p>“We know you’ll take great care of him and be the support he needs. But it’s nice to know other people care too. Pastor Fell’s a gem, Crowley,” Anathema added.</p><p>“Damn right he is. Now ‘s nice as it is to stand here I want to get back to Aziraphale. Show me what you’ve got.”</p><p>Newt and Anathema nodded at the same time. They’d already taken up more time than they’d planned. Newt opened the box, and Anathema pointed each thing out:</p><p>“Here’s a shoehorn/back scratcher. A lot of trans men said these were helpful since they couldn’t reach for things or lift them. Some fun face masks so you can pamper him properly. Two packages of lavender baby wipes because the first week kind of sucks.”</p><p>“I know how immaculate Pastor Fell keeps himself, so this is going to be hard on him,” Newt chimed in.</p><p>Crowley nodded. She knew how much Aziraphale was dreading not being able to take a proper shower. The wipes she’d gotten for him were unscented. Crowley knew he’d much prefer the ones Newt and Anathema purchased for him.</p><p>Anathema continued. “A neck pillow for when he’s sitting up, bendy straws, some milk of magnesia, a gift card for Blue Sky Bakery… Oh! Newt, you need to explain this last bit.”</p><p>Newt smiled and pulled out a book and some colored pencils. “This might be cliché but I saw this at the Christian bookstore down the way and thought Pastor Fell might enjoy it. It’s a Bible with lines on the side to journal, and many of the pages have scripture or words to color in.”</p><p>Crowley grabbed it out of Newt’s hands and looked it over. “Hmm…New Living Translation. Haven’t seen this version in Aziraphale’s collection. He’ll like that.” She flipped through the pages. It was lovely, though Crowley would never admit out loud that a Bible could be described as such. Crowley eyed the colored pencils. “Even got him the fancy pencils.”</p><p>“Pastor Fell deserves the best, Crowley, but you don’t need me to tell you that,” Anathema winked.</p><p>“Don’t you forget it either,” Crowley responded.</p><p>Newt and Anathema looked at each other. They could tell Crowley was feeling uneasy about being away from Aziraphale this long. They’d taken up enough of her time. Newt carefully took the Bible back, put it in the box, and handed the package to Crowley.</p><p>“Crowley, if there are any books Pastor Fell would like, give me a call and I’ll see if I have them. I can give them to you. If he wants to keep them, he can. If he doesn’t, just give them back and I’ll put them back on the salesfloor. Our phone numbers are in the box too,” Anathema patted Crowley on the shoulder.</p><p>She glared at the hand on her shoulder. Anathema immediately pulled it away.</p><p>Crowley grumbled. “Thanks, we appreciate it. I know he’ll be excited to open everything when he’s more with it. Call us next time though, yeah?”</p><p>“We will, Crow—” Newt was cut off when Crowley shut the door in their faces.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The first four days were filled with peace, quiet, and plenty of rest. Aziraphale had only needed his nausea meds once or twice, and he loved the smoothies and shakes Crowley was making him. The milk of magnesia was coming in handy—the surgeon had given them a heads up to get it, but Crowley had forgotten. He sure was thankful that Anathema and Newt cared enough to give him gifts. Crowley helped Aziraphale to and from the bathroom whenever he needed to go, and she faithfully woke him up every four hours to make sure he took his pain medication. Crowley</p><p> </p><p>hardly left Aziraphale’s side. She often had an intense, focused look on her face, checking him over to make sure everything was okay. He couldn’t help but compare Crowley to a powerful dragon guarding her precious treasure.</p><p>Crowley was skilled at taking care of the drains and wiped Aziraphale down as often as he asked. Aziraphale received a “reward” each day for sitting still and allowing Crowley to bathe him. It was the best way for Aziraphale to forget his anxiety and feelings of shame surrounding Crowley caring for him. He’d never had anyone take care of him before this. Crowley was truly a Godsend, even if she’d never perceive herself that way.</p><p>On day five of recovery, Aziraphale was sitting on the couch, coloring a passage from Song of Songs. Crowley was sitting next to Aziraphale, staring at the page. Crowley was using he/him pronouns that day. They had been spending more time talking about theology lately. Crowley wanted to know which passages Aziraphale loved and why. Questions were asked, lighthearted teasing and mild disagreements ensued, but it was <em>perfect. </em>Aziraphale was finally beginning to feel like he could share one of the biggest parts of his life with Crowley. They had come a long way since they first met all those months ago.</p><p>“<em>You are altogether beautiful my darling, beautiful in every way</em>. For once the Bible actually speaks my mind,” Crowley said with a smile.</p><p>Aziraphale blushed and looked at him. “I very much feel the same way about you, dear boy.”</p><p>“Hey, I want to say something. You mind putting that down for a bit?” Crowley asked.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded with a smile and handed the Bible and colored pencils to Crowley. He put them on the end table so Aziraphale wouldn’t risk harming himself by reaching. Crowley scooted closer and took Aziraphale’s hand in his.</p><p>“Got your note and read it the whole time you were in surgery. I’m glad you said it first—been wanting to tell you for a while now but didn’t want to go too fast…Angel, I love you,” Crowley said.</p><p>“Oh darling, I love you so very much. I didn’t want to risk not having the opportunity to tell you. I’m so thankful you feel the same way. I love you, my dear boy. Thank you for taking such good care of me always. You are the greatest treasure in my life,” Aziraphale responded.</p><p>Crowley leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. “I love you, angel. Love you so fucking much.”</p><p>Aziraphale was about to deepen the kiss when his cellphone went off. Crowley knew that it could be an important call from Joshua or his family, so he broke the kiss. It took every bit of willpower he had.</p><p>Crowley picked the phone up off the coffee table and handed it to Aziraphale.</p><p>Aziraphale cleared his throat before answering. “This is Aziraphale! Oh, hello Evelyn!... You are more than welcome to drop by. I am wide awake and in little pain. My partner, Crowley, will let you in… Yes, see you shortly. Pip pip!” he said cheerfully before hanging up.</p><p>Crowley looked confused. “Who’s Evelyn? Why am I letting her in?”</p><p>“Oh, you haven’t met her yet! I am rather surprised I’ve never mentioned her. Do you remember Beau?”</p><p>“‘Course,” Crowley responded.</p><p>Aziraphale continued. “Evelyn is their mother. I’ve occasionally spoken with her and Vernon—Beau’s father—to help them accept Beau. They came to worship on Sunday and asked if they could bring some meals for us. You know me, I simply cannot pass up an opportunity for a home cooked meal.”</p><p>“They treating Beau with respect? Can’t guarantee I won’t go off on them if they’re queerphobic bastards…Making Beau go to that bloody awful church.”</p><p>“Dear boy, I assure you that Evelyn and Vernon have come a long way. It is clear how much they love Beau. When they found out what Reverend Augustine did they immediately left the church. Though I certainly believe they should have left far sooner than that…But since then, they have contacted me for resources and advice. They are even reading a transgender devotional I recommended as a family before bedtime. I have great hope for them, and Beau looks far happier than they did when I first met them on Halloween,” Aziraphale explained.</p><p>Crowley relaxed. “I’ll give ‘em a chance for you and Beau’s sake. But if they so much as say something transphobic to us I’m throwing them out on their arses…Now we’ve got a couple of minutes, want to snog a bit?” he grinned.</p><p>Crowley didn’t need to ask Aziraphale twice. They enjoyed a good make out session until they heard a knock on the door a half hour later.</p><p>The two pulled themselves together before Crowley opened the door. Beau immediately gave Crowley a big hug. Crowley hugged them in return. He noticed Vernon and Evelyn staring at him. He was using he/him pronouns that day, but his clothing didn’t fit the traditional norms Vernon and Evelyn were used to. He was wearing a skintight off the shoulder red sweater with black snakes embroidered on it, black skinny jeans, and star glasses. His hair was done in a fishtail braid—Aziraphale always loved that style on him. His nails were painted black and there were stars on them.</p><p>Vernon realized he was staring and blushed in embarrassment. He shook himself out of it and stuck his hand out. Crowley patted Beau on the head and shook Vernon’s outstretched hand.</p><p>“Vernon Pontellier. You must be Crowley,” he said.</p><p>“One and only,” Crowley responded. After they shook hands, Crowley reached out to Evelyn.</p><p>She gave his hand a firm shake. “Evelyn Pontellier. So nice to meet you. May we come in?”</p><p>Crowley stepped aside and shooed them in the house. Vernon brought in two large brown bags.</p><p>“It is such a delight to see you all! I cannot give you a hug, Beau, but you’re welcome to sit next to me,” Aziraphale patted the space next to him.</p><p>Beau ran to the couch and sat close to Aziraphale. “How are you feeling, Pastor Fell? Mom and dad and I brought you and Crowley plenty of food. I made the stir fry myself,” Beau said proudly.</p><p>“Beau loves to cook, Pastor Fell. Sh—they—cooked most of the meals. We only helped a little, don’t let them fool you,” Evelyn said with a smile.</p><p>“S’okay if you two bring the kitchen chairs into the living room. Lemme put away what you’ve brought us. Uh, thanks,” Crowley grabbed the bags and headed to the kitchen.</p><p>He wasn’t one to readily accept gifts. Truth be told, Crowley was a little annoyed that the Pontelliers brought them meals. It was Crowley’s job to take care of his angel, not someone else. But he swallowed his pride and reminded himself that it was a good thing. Aziraphale deserved to be doted on, and if care came from someone else occasionally, he just had to accept it. Aziraphale was just that lovable, after all.</p><p>Crowley joined Aziraphale and Beau on the couch and looked closely at the Pontelliers. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about them. Their reaction to his appearance was pretty commonplace. But the knowledge he had about the Vernon and Evelyn was predominantly negative. He knew he should trust Aziraphale’s judgment, but it was hard. Crowley could only remember that horrible minister and the pain Beau experienced.</p><p>“So,” Evelyn shifted in her seat. “What are your…Pronouns? Yes, that’s the word. What are your pronouns, Crowley?”</p><p>His eyebrows nearly went to his hairline. He never expected people like them to ask. “He/him today. It’s different day to day. Next time you see me might be she/her, who knows,” Crowley shrugged.</p><p>Evelyn and Vernon nodded and smiled. Crowley looked over at Beau and they were beaming. Okay, maybe their parents were trying after all.</p><p>“It looks to me like you’re being well taken care of. Always a blessing to have a good helpmate. If I didn’t have Evelyn after I had back surgery a few years ago I don’t know what I would’ve done,” Vernon said.</p><p>Aziraphale beamed at Crowley. “Oh, I cannot agree enough. Crowley is certainly the nicest and most helpful person I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. He’s been ever so good to me. He keeps track of when I need my medication, helps me to and from the restroom, brings me my meals…I could not imagine my recovery process without him.”</p><p>“‘M not nice…” Crowley grumbled under his breath and pouted.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled and rolled his eyes. “Oh, my mistake. Big bad demon, you are,” he teased.</p><p>Evelyn and Vernon looked at each other. They’d never heard something like that as a term of endearment before.</p><p>Beau spoke up. “Pastor Fell, can I ask what it’s been like? Healing and stuff from top surgery?”</p><p>“Of course you can,” Aziraphale focused his attention on Beau. “The procedure took several hours. I must say the worst part was the recovery from the anesthesia. I was rather nauseous and a bit dizzy for a while. The pain has been manageable, thanks to Crowley’s insistence on keeping up with my medication regimen. I have drains that catch fluid and reduce swelling. They are rather awkward but not uncomfortable. My chest is covered so I cannot see it, and I am wearing a compression garment.”</p><p>“So…Like a binder? I thought you wouldn’t need one anymore,” Beau said.</p><p>“Fortunately, in several weeks I will never need a binder again. This is to help keep me in tip top condition and makes healing easier,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>“Can I see the drains?”</p><p>“Beau, we talked about this on the way here. It isn’t appropriate to ask such personal things,” Vernon stepped in. He sounded firm but was not harsh.</p><p>Aziraphale responded. “Vernon, it is quite all right. They only way that we learn about such things is to ask questions. I am comfortable with my journey as a transgender man, and this is simply another part of my process. I do appreciate you considering my comfort, however…Would either of you be uncomfortable if I were to show Beau one of my drains?”</p><p>“I’m actually curious too, Pastor Fell. If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to see what one looks like,” Evelyn admitted.</p><p>Crowley watched as Aziraphale pulled up his shirt a little to show Beau a drain. There was some fluid in it, but not much. He couldn’t help but love Aziraphale a little more as he observed him. Aziraphale continued to answer their questions in a calm and open way. Crowley had never had many opportunities to talk about his own gender identity and expression. To see how Aziraphale was so comfortable in his skin was beautiful beyond words. If he never met Aziraphale, Crowley knew he may have never shared his need for both he/him and she/her pronouns.</p><p>Here was this angelic man, so full of love and patience, making the world a little bit better for people like him and Beau. Aziraphale was helping Evelyn and Vernon realize the importance of acceptance and loving their child in their entirety. It was in this moment that Crowley felt a little hope. Maybe some religious people could learn and grow, after all. Clearly this family could.</p><p>After a while, their conversation came to an end. Aziraphale was clearly getting tired and needed a nap. Crowley shot the couple a look that communicated that it was time to take their leave. Vernon gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.</p><p>“Pastor Fell and Crowley, if you need more meals or run out of anything and are too tired to pick it up, please give us a call. You’ve helped our family so much, and we’d like to do the same for you both,” Evelyn said and stood up.</p><p>Beau squeezed Aziraphale’s hand before getting up off of the couch. Crowley saw them out. As Crowley opened the door, Vernon stopped and looked at him. “Crowley, thanks for what you did for Beau a few months ago. Beau talks about you often, and we appreciate you protecting them.”</p><p>Before Crowley could respond, the Pontelliers were heading down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>A week had come and gone, and Aziraphale was waiting nervously at the surgeon’s office. Aziraphale’s shirt was off and he was laying down on a table. Today was the day. Drains were coming out, bolsters would be removed, and he’d get to see his chest. Aziraphale was excited, but he felt a little afraid too. What if the results weren’t what he was hoping for? What if his body rejected one—or both—of the nipple grafts?</p><p>Crowley sensed Aziraphale’s anxiety. “S’alright, angel. Just breathe. I’m here. I love you,” Crowley said soothingly.</p><p>He looked over at Crowley and took her hand in his. “I love you too, dear girl. Thank you for being here through all of this. I do not know how I would be handling all of this without your presence…And,” Aziraphale looked Crowley up and down. “I love that you’re wearing my favorite outfit.”</p><p>Crowley smirked. “Least you can blame your blood pressure on me now,” she teased.</p><p>The two shared a laugh before Doctor Rivera and a nurse came in.</p><p>“Hello, Aziraphale! Are you ready to see your results?” Doctor Rivera asked.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded his head enthusiastically. Crowley stifled a giggle at Aziraphale’s precious response.</p><p>“First, Nurse Sanjeet will remove the drains and bolsters. I have to warn you that the drain removal may be a bit painful. He will have to tug to get them out,” she said.</p><p>Aziraphale took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Crowley let go of his hand so the nurse could work.</p><p>“Please do not tell me when you are going to remove them. I would appreciate it if you simply did it, as it will help my anxiety,” Aziraphale said with his eyes glued shut.</p><p>“You sound just like me,” Nurse Sanjeet replied.</p><p>The right drain came out with only a little discomfort. The left, however, took a great deal of tugging. The pain was quite intense, and Aziraphale went white as a ghost. Crowley winced in secondhand pain. Once the drains were out, Nurse Sanjeet carefully removed the bolsters. Aziraphale felt a bit of a tugging sensation, but little else. His chest was numb for the most part with the exception of a few pins and needles here and there.</p><p>“Are you ready to take a look, Aziraphale?” Nurse Sanjeet asked.</p><p>Aziraphale opened his eyes, nodded and gave a nervous smile. Crowley helped Aziraphale off the table and brought him towards the full-length mirror.</p><p>“Open your eyes,” Doctor Rivera said. She stood behind him so she could examine the results.</p><p>As soon as Aziraphale opened his eyes, he nearly collapsed. He was thankful that Crowley was holding him upright. There was still swelling, but that didn’t matter. His nipples were half the size they once were and in a more masculine position. The incision marks were bright red. He was finally flat! Aziraphale couldn’t have been happier. He looked perfect. For the first time in his life, he could look at his chest with pride. Aziraphale’s body finally felt like his own. There were no words that could express his joy. His smile said it all.</p><p>This marked the final milestone of his transition. He felt complete. What made it even better was that he wasn’t alone. Crowley, the person he loved more than anyone, was with him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Scripture References/Translations:</p><p>Mark 5:25-34 (Common English Bible, CEB)</p><p>Song of Songs 4:7 (New Living Translation, NLT)</p><p>The devotional that is mentioned exists. It's called "Transfigured: A 40-Day Journey Through Scripture for Gender-Queer and Transgender People" by Suzanne DeWitt Hall</p><p>A funny note:<br/>Aziraphale's experience after waking up from anesthesia was mine. I literally did that xD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter I've been dying to write forever: Valentine's Day, which just so happens to also be Crowley's birthday! Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday of the year, followed by Easter. Partnered or single, it will always be my favorite. So it was fun to write a chapter about something I love so much. It is ALL fluff and happiness. </p><p>There is also explicit sexual content in this chapter. They have vaginal sex. I have marked the beginning and ending portion of the fic with this: ++++ . The rest of the fic is fluffy as all get out and does not contain smut.</p><p>Thank you again for all of your comments, dear readers. This has been a very, very challenging past month and a half for me. I read your comments many times. They are a great comfort to me. So thank you for the kudos and the comments you write to me. I love y'all.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale had big plans for the day. There were two reasons. First, it was Valentine’s Day. He wouldn’t admit this to anyone but God, but it was his favorite holiday. Aziraphale absolutely <em>loved </em>love. All the years that he was single never took away the joy it brought him. The cards, candy, oversized stuffed animals, flowers, the dinner dates…It was Heavenly. But this year</p><p>Valentine’s Day had far more significance, as would all other Valentine’s Days to come. It was Crowley’s birthday! Aziraphale had been spoiled so rotten on his 60<sup>th</sup>, and he couldn’t wait to do the same.</p><p>The week leading up to Valentine’s Day was filled with a great deal of planning. On the days Crowley was working at the Tadfield Botanical Gardens, Aziraphale was getting things ready. Fortunately, his healing from top surgery was going without a hitch. He could move forward with his plans. Aziraphale had plenty of energy. He hadn’t needed the pain medication in quite some time. The compression vest was OFF. No more binders or compression vests! He had dog ears, and his surgeon offered to do a revision in the future, but Aziraphale couldn’t care less. Aziraphale felt they fit his shape well. He was finally flat, and he was happy.</p><p>The first stop was making a reservation at a lovely new restaurant, Petronius’. It was an oyster bar. He’d overheard some of his congregants raving about it. Given they were supposedly an aphrodisiac—as if either of them really needed the help—it seemed like a flirty and fun gesture. Crowley enjoyed seafood, so he thought it would be an appropriate dinner. Aziraphale was fortunate enough to snag a reservation for 7 p.m.</p><p>Once that was taken care of, Aziraphale headed on over to Susan’s Plant Shop. Susan was one of Aziraphale’s congregants. He loved supporting his flock’s businesses, and what better time than to purchase a gift for his beloved? Especially because she sold far more than just floral arrangements. The moment Aziraphale walked in, Susan gave him a big smile.</p><p>“Hey there, Pastor Fell! You look great! How are you feeling? What brings you in today? When are you coming back to church?” she rushed over to him and grabbed both his hands. Susan always had lots of questions.</p><p>Aziraphale beamed at her. “Susan, your presence always makes my day. It is so nice to see you after going without for a month now. To answer your questions, I am feeling tip top. My healing has been going swimmingly, no complications. I’ve been fortunate to have my darling partner helping in my recovery process. I don’t know what I would do without my Crowley,” he said.</p><p>Susan’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you were dating someone! Do you have a picture?”</p><p>Aziraphale blushed and pulled out his smartphone. He and Crowley had taken quite a few pictures together. Truth be told, Aziraphale looked at them often throughout the day.</p><p>“I will show you two different photographs, Susan. It is important for you to know that Crowley’s pronouns vary day by day. Crowley is genderfluid,” he replied.</p><p>She looked a little confused but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t a look of judgment or discomfort, however.</p><p>“This is Crowley on a he/him day.” He was wearing a band tee with Velvet Underground on it, had his hair in a bun, and didn’t have any makeup on. He wore his sportier pair of sunglasses that folks would associate more with masculinity.</p><p>After Susan had gotten a thorough look, Aziraphale pulled up another photo. “Now Susan, this is Crowley on a she/her day.” It was a candid photo that Aziraphale snapped the morning of his surgery. He loved seeing Crowley wear his oversized sweater and the way she paired it with a cute belt. She was putting on her lipstick as she looked in the mirror.</p><p>“I have to say this, and I hope it’s okay. Your partner is stunning in both of those pictures! Must be quite a vision in person,” she responded.</p><p>“Oh yes. I must admit that I was quite taken by Crowley before our friendship even began,” Aziraphale’s blush darkened, his chubby cheeks nearly as red as the roses on the counter.</p><p>Susan was silent for a few beats, quite unusual for her. Aziraphale waited patiently for her to continue their conversation.</p><p>“So…” Susan paused and stroked her chin in thought. “So…I don’t really understand what genderfluid means. I can tell that there are pronoun changes but other than that…Would you mind sending me an article when you get back to work? Speaking of which, when are you coming back to church? Bishop Gabriel is…Oh I’m sorry to say this but he is one of the most unpleasant people I have met in a long time!”</p><p>Aziraphale desperately wanted to agree with her. Say that he was a shit bishop and an even shittier person, but he refrained. It wasn’t appropriate to admit that to a congregant, as desperately as he wanted to. Bishop Gabriel truly was, as Crowley would say, “a right wanker.”</p><p>He cleared his throat before speaking. “Ah, I am deeply sorry to hear that, Susan. I certainly understand that it is challenging to have another minister step in while the one we are used to is away. I have been there as well. I will return to you all on March 1<sup>st</sup>. I must admit that I miss all of you terribly and look forward to being with you again. But for the time being, it is delightful to see you. Now, I have heard you have some carnivorous house plants?”</p><p>Susan grinned in response. She kept a firm grip on one of his hands and led him to a small section of plants. “People don’t ask about these often, but I love them. They keep the shop bug free!”</p><p>“My dearest loves unique plants. On one of our first outings together I gave them a Venus Fly Trap. It has a special place in Crowley’s home. Rather than a bouquet I believe this will be a more fitting gift,” he responded.</p><p>She nodded and showed him the variety of plants she had. All of them were lovely. Susan was skilled in plant care and took good care of them. He imagined Susan tending to them, cheerfully offering them encouragement as they grew.</p><p>“I do believe this one is the perfect plant for Crowley,” he pointed to a particularly feisty looking one.</p><p>Susan picked it up, brought it to the register and Aziraphale paid for it. He was caught off guard when Susan spoke to the plant before he left.</p><p>“Now if you don’t grow for Crowley, I promise you’ll be sorry. They’ll bring you back here and into the disposal you’ll go,” Susan hissed. The plant shook as if it was nodding in understanding.</p><p>She noticed Aziraphale’s stunned look. She shrugged and grinned. “Using the Crowley method…Wait a second, did your partner develop that?!”</p><p>As uncomfortable as Aziraphale was with the approach, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in his dear partner’s notoriety. “You are quite right. I’ll be sure to have Crowley pay you a visit so you two can, as they say, ‘talk store’,” he smiled.</p><p>After he left the shop, Aziraphale headed home. He had one final gift for Crowley, and it would take some practice to get it just right.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>On Valentine’s Day morning, Crowley woke up to the sound of Aziraphale humming and moving about in the kitchen. He immediately recognized the tune and couldn’t help but grin. It was one of his favorite songs. Well, a recent favorite ever since they declared their love for one another. It was unexpected but quite welcome.</p><p>He checked the time and saw that it was nearing noon. Aziraphale always seemed to know precisely when Crowley would wake, and the thought made him smile. Crowley stretched, got up, and rummaged through the closet. He decided to wear one of Aziraphale’s 3x sweaters they bought for the earlier parts of his recovery and wore lacy black panties underneath. Dressing in Aziraphale’s clothes was one of the easiest ways to seduce him. And today was the day that they’d go beyond the gloves. They’d had a long conversation about it several days prior. Aziraphale was the one to bring it up. Crowley asked Aziraphale multiple times if he was sure. He wanted reassurance that it wasn’t because Aziraphale felt he owed Crowley birthday vaginal sex. Aziraphale assured him multiple times that it was not the reason why, and Crowley trusted that to be the truth. If Crowley had his way, they’d be in bed right now, but he knew he needed to be patient.</p><p>After he got dressed, he put the condoms, dental dams, gloves, and lube on the nightstand. Crowley didn’t want to have to go rummaging about for it when the time came. Once that was taken care of, he slithered his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and use the bathroom. He wanted to look and feel his best for Aziraphale.</p><p>“Ah, there’s my wily birthday serpent. Pronouns today?” Aziraphale smiled at Crowley the moment he came out of the bathroom.</p><p>“He/him today, angel. Now what’s all this?” Crowley waved his hand towards the kitchen table. Aziraphale had plated up a nice breakfast scramble for them both, along with toast, jam, and hash browns. Crowley’s favorite mug was on the table and it was filled with freshly brewed coffee.</p><p>Aziraphale walked over to Crowley, wrapped his arms around him, and pulled him into a gentle kiss. “Happy birthday, dear boy. I have several surprises for you today, and this is the first.”</p><p>He pulled away and looked Crowley up and down. He couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. Crowley cocked his hips and winked. “Like what you see, dove?”</p><p>Aziraphale swallowed hard. “Y-yes…You <em>know </em>what it does to me when you wear my clothing. Now before I give in to your temptation, let’s enjoy your birthday breakfast before the food gets cold.”</p><p>Crowley kissed Aziraphale one more time. “If anything, you’re the temptation. Wearing that white shirt and joggers that hug that big arse of yours,” he reached around and squeezed both of Aziraphale’s cheeks. Aziraphale let out a little squeak as Crowley kept a firm grip on his backside.</p><p>“<em>Crowley</em>,” Aziraphale blushed.</p><p>Crowley chuckled, gave Aziraphale’s ass a slap and walked over to the table. “Thanks, angel, for part one of my birthday surprises. Like you said, let’s have breakfast before I sweep you off your feet.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded in response, at a loss for words.</p><p>When Crowley sat down, he noticed a plant sitting at the center. It had a red bow with pink hearts on it.</p><p>“You got me a Sundew? Angel, ‘ve been wanting one of these for ages now. Never had luck finding good ones. Where’d you get this?” Crowley admired the beautiful carnivorous plant in front of him.</p><p>Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s temple before sitting down in his usual seat. “One of my congregants—Susan—own a plant shop. She has a small carnivorous plant section, and as soon as I saw this delightful Sundew I knew I just had to purchase it for you. Sometime this week I would like to take you to meet her. I’m sure she’d like your autograph.”</p><p>Crowley couldn’t take his eyes off the plant. It was perfect. And it appeared as though a very familiar way of taking care of plants had been employed…</p><p>“You mean she—”</p><p>Aziraphale interrupted. “Yes, dear boy. She does, indeed, use the Crowley Method to care for her plants. Your Sundew will behave for you, no training required.”</p><p>Crowley smirked. “Told you it worked, angel. First breakfast and coffee, now a Sundew that knows its place? Gonna spoil me rotten.”</p><p>“That’s the goal today, my darling. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>+ + + +</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>As Aziraphale finished washing the dishes, Crowley came up behind him. Crowley put his hands on his angel’s voluptuous hips and pressed himself against Aziraphale. He kissed his neck before moving onto Aziraphale’s ear.</p><p>“Can you feel me, dove? Feel how hard I am for you?” Crowley growled in Aziraphale’s ear and ground his hard cock against the cleft of Aziraphale’s ass.</p><p>Aziraphale let out a whimper and bucked back against Crowley. His hands trembled as he finished washing the last fork and put it in the drying rack.</p><p>“Take me to bed, Crowley…<em>Please</em>,” Aziraphale’s voice wavered with desire.</p><p>“I’ll take good care of you, angel,” Crowley purred before pulling away.</p><p>When Aziraphale turned to face him, Crowley took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. He swayed his hips, knowing how riled up it got Aziraphale. He smirked to himself as he felt Aziraphale’s gaze rake up and down his body. As soon as they made it to the bedroom, Crowley gently laid Aziraphale on the bed. He climbed on top of him and kissed him slowly and deeply, just as Aziraphale liked it.</p><p>“I want you, Crowley. Please don’t make me wait.” Aziraphale broke the kiss and looked into Crowley’s eyes. His chubby cheeks were flush with desire, his pupils blown as he took in the sight of Crowley’s beautiful face.</p><p>“You sure, dove? Don’t want to move too fast,” Crowley asked.</p><p>“I’ve never been so sure, dear boy. We’ve waited long enough for this…May I undress you, darling?”</p><p>Crowley gave Aziraphale a quick kiss before rolling off him. Aziraphale sat up and gently pulled the baggy sweater off his partner. He ran his hands up and down Crowley’s chest and stomach. He peppered gentle kisses on Crowley’s neck, shoulders, and chest. Crowley shivered at the delicate touch. Crowley was rock hard, his cock straining against the tight confines of his panties. His cock was leaking precum, staining the front of his underwear. He desperately wanted to take them off. But he knew it was best to wait until Aziraphale felt it was the right time for him to put on a condom.</p><p>Aziraphale took in the sight of Crowley’s gorgeous figure. He felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. “My darling, you truly are the most beautiful being I have ever seen. Thank you for giving me the privilege of loving you. Good Lord, do I love you.” Aziraphale wrapped Crowley up in a loving embrace and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.</p><p>“Blasphemer,” Crowley teased in between kisses.</p><p>As they continued kissing, Crowley’s hands roamed underneath Aziraphale’s tee. He slowly hiked up his angel’s shirt, waiting for Aziraphale to give him a sign that it was okay to remove it. Aziraphale reluctantly pulled away and put his arms up so Crowley could take it off.</p><p>Crowley took in the sight of Aziraphale’s chest. He marveled at the bright scars, the bit of dog earring on his outer chest. His areolas were small, and he had the cutest little nipples. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands in his and invited him to touch. Crowley caressed his beloved’s chest with reverence.</p><p>“No pins and needles today, but still quite numb. Even though I can’t <em>feel </em>you, my darling, it’s incredible to finally be able to share myself fully with you,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>“So fucking proud of you, dove. So brave to go under the knife, be exactly who you are. To think I get to be the one and only who gets the honor of touching you,” Crowley replied.</p><p>He ran his fingers through Aziraphale’s chest hair before moving down to his hefty tummy. Crowley felt the indents of Aziraphale’s stretchmarks, the scar that remained a mystery to Crowley, the furry hair covering the expanse of his belly. Aziraphale moaned at Crowley’s touch. Crowley could tell Aziraphale was getting impatient, and he loved it.</p><p>“Tell me what you want next, angel. Can get these pants off of you, grab the gloves and a dental dam, finally go down on you…Anything you like, just tell me,” Crowley leaned forward and purred in Aziraphale’s ear.</p><p>“I-I want your mouth on me, Crowley…What position do you want me in?”</p><p>“Want you on your back with those thighs spread. Don’t make me wait, lay down, dove.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded and quickly laid down. Crowley made swift work of Aziraphale’s joggers and noticed he hadn’t bothered to wear any underwear.</p><p>“Oh, you’re a naughty angel…Wanted me so bad you didn’t even wear your briefs…Look at the mess you’ve made of your pants. So wet for me,” Crowley brought the crotch of the pants to his face and took a deep breath. He loved the musky, tangy scent of Aziraphale’s arousal mixed with sweat.</p><p>Once he’d had his fill, Crowley tossed the joggers on the floor and reached over to the nightstand. Crowley first put on the nitrile gloves then opened the dental dam package. He squirted some lube on it to prevent tearing and to make it more comfortable for Aziraphale. Crowley was quite familiar with dams—in the 80s, Crowley cut condoms and made them into a makeshift barrier when he performed oral sex on his clients with vulvas. He truly was ahead of his time in that regard. And fuck, was he thankful for it.</p><p>Aziraphale spread his legs as far apart as they would go. Crowley took in the sight of his angel’s vulva. This was the first time he had the opportunity to look at Aziraphale’s privates up close. He stopped trimming his pubic hair at Crowley’s request. The hair was long, curly, and white like the hair on his head. He gently parted Aziraphale’s plump outer lips and enjoyed the view. Aziraphale was so wet he was nearly dripping. His inner lips were on the longer side and reminded Crowley of a butterfly’s wings. Aziraphale’s large clit was standing at attention, peeking out of its hood.</p><p>“Fuck, you have the most perfect pussy, Aziraphale,” Crowley couldn’t help but say.</p><p>“Thank you, dear boy.” Aziraphale smiled down at Crowley and gave a happy wiggle in response. “Now please, do get on with it. You’ve told me how skilled you are with your split tongue, and I would like to find out for myself.”</p><p>“You bastard,” Crowley said with a smirk. “Before I start, is it okay ‘f I use my fingers too? Want to get you ready for me.”</p><p>“I would love nothing more, Crowley. Thank you for asking me…If you have no further questions then I request that you, ah, ‘get to it’,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>He carefully placed the dam over Aziraphale’s spread vulva, making sure that it covered him entirely. Crowley gave Aziraphale a moment to adjust to the sensation before he got to work.</p><p>Crowley took a moment to savor the delectable sight. He took a deep breath, enjoying his partner’s natural scent. If Aziraphale let him, he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life between those thick thighs. Crowley’s self-control completely left at the thought. He dived in, licking a stripe from Aziraphale’s entrance up to his hard clit.</p><p>Aziraphale let out a loud moan at the feeling of Crowley’s tongue on the sensitive nub. Crowley ate him out with abandon. He took Aziraphale’s clit in between the fork of his tongue and stroked it. He paid close attention to every sound that escaped Aziraphale. It guided the way he pleasured Aziraphale. He found that Aziraphale liked it best when he wrapped his tongue around his angel’s clit and stroked up and down.</p><p>“Oh <em>Crowley</em>, please…”</p><p>Crowley looked up at Aziraphale and was enraptured. Aziraphale was gripping the sheets, his head thrown back in pleasure. He could tell Aziraphale was on the cusp of an orgasm but needed a little more to push him over the edge.</p><p>He stopped his ministrations for a moment. “Please what, dove? Use your words,” Crowley said seductively.</p><p>Aziraphale opened his eyes and locked down at Crowley. “U-use your fingers…I need to feel something inside of me…<em>Please</em>,” he whimpered.</p><p>Without skipping a beat, Crowley put his tongue back on Aziraphale’s clit and carefully put two fingers inside his vagina. Aziraphale was wetter than he’d ever been. Crowley’s cock got impossibly harder at the feeling. Good Someone, he couldn’t wait to have his dick inside his beloved’s dripping entrance.</p><p>He crooked his fingers just so and rubbed Aziraphale’s sweet spot. He used a lot of pressure, just as Aziraphale liked it. Aziraphale’s thighs were trembling and his breathing picked up. His hands found their way into Crowley’s hair and gave it a gentle tug. With Crowley’s name on his lips, Aziraphale wailed as he came. He’d never such an intense orgasm before. Crowley hadn’t been lying—he was incredible at oral sex. All the practice over the years had served him well. Aziraphale was eternally grateful for it.</p><p>When the fluttering of Aziraphale’s walls stilled, Crowley pulled out his fingers and carefully removed the dental dam. Aziraphale was rendered speechless and motioned for Crowley to climb on top of him. Crowley slithered his way up Aziraphale’s body. He was pulled into a messy, passionate kiss. Aziraphale opened his mouth and Crowley slipped his tongue inside. He savored the feeling of Aziraphale’s tongue swirling around his.</p><p>Aziraphale broke the kiss and stared into Crowley’s beautiful eyes. No longer were they hidden behind shades. He was thankful beyond measure to be able to see them through the star-shaped glasses Crowley was currently wearing. The expression of love and desire in Crowley’s eyes nearly brought him to tears.</p><p>“Crowley, I’m ready to have you inside me. May I put on the condom? I must admit I have been fantasizing about it for a rather long time…” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>Crowley couldn’t help but smirk. “Great minds think alike, I ‘spose. Been thinking the same thing for ages now… ‘Course you can put it on me, dove.”</p><p>He got off the bed so he could remove his panties. Aziraphale noticed how soaked the fabric was from Crowley’s precum. Crowley made a show of removing his lacy underwear, wiggling his skinny hips as he did so. Aziraphale’s mouth watered when Crowley’s perfect cock sprang free, erect and ready. As he drank in the sight of Crowley’s lean, angular figure, he felt a brief pang of sadness. Because of all he’d been through, he knew he’d probably never be able to bring himself to fully taste Crowley. As long as they journeyed this life together, there would probably never be a moment of intimacy without barriers.</p><p>Crowley noticed the way Aziraphale’s face fell, the way he sunk deeper into the mattress. Had he moved too fast? What was wrong?</p><p>He slowly got on his knees and looked deeply into his beloved’s beautiful blue eyes. “Angel, c’mere,” Crowley opened his arms, inviting him to move closer.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded and scooted to the edge of the bed. He spread his legs enough so Crowley could occupy the space between them. Crowley took Aziraphale’s hands in his and tenderly kissed each knuckle.</p><p>“What’s wrong, dove? We don’t have to keep going. Could run you a bath and wash your hair, give you the truffles I’ve been dying to give you since I woke up,” Crowley said.</p><p>He couldn’t help but wiggle and smile at the thought of decadent truffles. But that wasn’t what he wanted right now. Aziraphale <em>wanted </em>to make love to Crowley, feel him inside his body.</p><p>“My darling boy, I wish to continue, and I want to…Make love to you. My love, I sometimes feel rather guilty that I am unable to engage in carnal activities with you unless we are using protection…I feel as though I am somehow robbing us of closeness,” Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Crowley’s.</p><p>“Shh, shh. None of that, angel. Throw those thoughts in the bin. None of this,” Crowley gestured to the condoms, gloves, and dams on the nightstand, “robs us of anything. Using them doesn’t make us any less close, dove. Fuck whoever made you think that. No guilt here. ‘M just bloody glad we get to share this together. Never thought I’d actually be here with someone… ‘Specially someone as perfect as you. If you need to hear it, I consent fully to using all this. Enthusiastically. All in.” Crowley reached up and cupped Aziraphale’s cheek.</p><p>“But Aziraphale, do you need to stop? S’okay, and I never want you to think we’ve gotta continue. What do you need? Do anything for you, you know that. Can’t stand the thought of sliding into home base ‘f you don’t want to. Need you to tell me exactly what you want.”</p><p>His angel melted into Crowley’s touch, another surge of arousal hitting him. He felt comforted. Crowley was right. This didn’t change anything between them. They were still giving themselves freely, with full trust, pure love, and care. It touched Aziraphale even more that Crowley noticed the shift in him, checked in to talk about his feelings. Not many people had ever cared enough about Aziraphale’s comfort or feelings to ask. Crowley was everything Aziraphale could ever want and more, if that was even possible.</p><p>Aziraphale kissed Crowley, with a tenderness that warmed Crowley’s soul.</p><p>“Crowley, thank you for asking me. I consent completely and utterly. I want to feel you inside of me, consummate our love this way. May I put the prophylactic on you? If you are ready, that is. I do not wish to rush you,” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“Fuck yes, angel. Been fantasizing ‘bout you doing this for ages,” Crowley admitted.</p><p>“I must admit the same, my dearest love. Ever since you stood up for me in the coffee shop… I touched myself rather often to the memory and what I wished I could have done to you. Not out of obligation, mind you…Not in that way…Crowley, that sweater dress is truly temptation incarnate,” Aziraphale blushed and batted his eyelashes at Crowley.</p><p>Crowley didn’t respond. His brain stopped working for a moment at Aziraphale’s admission. That same night he was having a good wank to the thought of his angel riding his cock. It was a relief to know they’d both felt the same level of attraction to each other. And for so long! Crowley couldn’t bear another minute. He wanted to be inside of Aziraphale <em>yesterday</em>.</p><p>Without a word, Crowley stood up, his cock still hard and aching to be sheathed inside his love.     Aziraphale put on gloves. He then reached for a condom. He carefully opened the foil wrapper and examined it for any damage. Once Aziraphale felt confident that it was in proper working order, he gently rolled it onto Crowley’s length. Crowley let out a low moan at the feeling of Aziraphale’s hands on his cock. Aziraphale always seemed to know exactly how to tease him. Truly enough of a bastard worth loving with ever fiber of his being.</p><p>“What position do you want our first time to be in, angel? Only thing I ask is that you don’t face away from me. No doggy style this time,” Crowley said.</p><p>Aziraphale looked up at Crowley and couldn’t help but give him that perfect, angelic smile. “I quite agree, as much as I <em>love </em>being on my hands and knees…Let us save that for another sexual experience. Would you be amenable to me being on top of you? I love when you look at my body, and I quite love the image of you taking your fill of all of me.”</p><p>“Go—Sat—Someone, yes. It’s the position I think about the most when I jack it, ‘f you want to know,” Crowley answered and wiggled his eyebrows.</p><p>“As crass as you are, I am rather flattered. Now please, be a good boy and get on the bed. Lay back and make yourself comfortable,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>“Now that that bloody ancient mattress is rotting away in a dump somewhere, ‘course I’ll be comfortable,” Crowley teased.</p><p>Aziraphale huffed. Dammit, he was right though. He waited for Crowley to nestle into the bed. Aziraphale spread a generous amount of lube on Crowley’s cock. While he was still quite wet, things were a little drier due to aging and hormone replacement therapy. Once Aziraphale was satisfied, he carefully climbed on top of the gorgeous being he was blessed enough to call his. Aziraphale rubbed his vulva up and down Crowley’s length. Crowley let out a punched-out breath of pleasure at the feeling.</p><p>“Are you ready to be inside of me, darling?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>Crowley nodded, unable to find words. Aziraphale wrapped a gloved hand around Crowley’s aching cock and lined it up with his vagina. Aziraphale took his time, working a little bit of Crowley inside of him in slow increments. He needed to adjust to the sensation, and if he took Crowley all the way inside in one motion, he knew he would feel pain. Aziraphale had learned the hard way with one of his dildos in recent months.</p><p>They had spoken about the need to move slow at the beginning, and Crowley had been around the block long enough to know it. It took a great deal of willpower not to buck his hips. The wet heat of Aziraphale’s pussy was nearly driving him mad.</p><p>Once Aziraphale was able to take his beloved all the way inside him, he sighed in pleasure. He loved feeling completely and utterly filled by Crowley. Finally, they were as close as two beings could get. The energy between them was soft and filled with love. Reverence. For Aziraphale, it felt as though their covenant of love was signed and dated.</p><p>Aziraphale moved slowly as they made love, savoring the feeling of Crowley’s length inside of him. The look on Crowley’s face was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Lips parted, breath hitching with every movement, looking at every single inch of Aziraphale’s body. Taking in the beauty of Aziraphale’s top surgery scars, his large belly that jiggled with each movement, down to where they were joined.</p><p>Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands and placed them on his chest. “Crowley, touch me, please,” he whimpered. Having him inside was no longer enough. He wanted Crowley’s touch in every sense.</p><p>“Fuck, I love you so much, angel. So fucking gorgeous. Your flat chest,” Crowley circled Aziraphale’s nipples with his fingers, felt the full expanse of his chest, and worshiped the scars below.</p><p>Crowley continued between heavy breaths and moans. His hands moved to Aziraphale’s fat tummy. He caressed his sides before gently squeezing Aziraphale’s stomach. “And holy Someone, fucking love your weight. One of my favorite parts of you right here. Loved it ever since I saw you the first time…Tempting me in that coffee shop. Bloody tease.”</p><p>“Oh <em>Crowley</em>…What else do you love about my body?” Aziraphale picked up the pace, sliding up and down Crowley’s shaft. Ever since Crowley found out about Aziraphale’s praise kink, he said sweet things every time they engaged in intimate activities.</p><p>His hands moved to Aziraphale’s backside. He gave each cheek a slap before he jiggled and squeezed his partner’s large ass. “Got the most perfect arse, angel. Bigger’n my hands, thick just the way I like it. I know everyone’s jealous that I get to be with you. Grab a handful anytime you let me…Fuck, just like that, dove. Ride me. Take what you need,” Crowley moaned and moved his hands to Aziraphale’s hips.</p><p>Crowley began to thrust, moving in sync with Aziraphale. The sounds that escaped Aziraphale’s plump lips were better than anything he’d ever heard. Even their previous intimacy didn’t compare to the moans and whimpers of pleasure coming from his angel now.</p><p>“Know what I love most about your body, angel?” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s back and pulled him down so their bodies were flush together. “Your perfect face.”</p><p>Aziraphale surged forward, crashing their lips together. Crowley held him impossibly tighter, wanting him as close as possible. He felt Aziraphale’s hard clit rubbing against him. With each thrust, Aziraphale’s cllit received the perfect stimulation.</p><p>“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Aziraphale panted between kisses as he came. His whole body shook in pleasure, and his walls clenched around Crowley’s cock.</p><p>The feeling of Aziraphale’s orgasm and the confessions of love sent Crowley over the edge not long after. He came hard, filling the condom with his spend.</p><p>“I love you too, dove,” Crowley replied in a whisper as he came down from his high.</p><p>When Aziraphale felt Crowley begin to soften, he reluctantly pushed himself up and off Crowley’s cock. Aziraphale slid off Crowley and laid next to him on the bed. He was drenched in sweat, his body pink from exertion. Crowley got up, removed the condom and gloves, and tossed them in the trash next to the bed. He reached over to Aziraphale, gave him a sweet kiss and helped him up off the bed.</p><p>“You need to take a piss, angel. Don’t want you getting any UTI’s.”</p><p>Aziraphale groaned. “I am well aware of what to do after love making, dear boy.”</p><p>Crowley grinned. “Gotta take care of you, angel.” He pulled his beloved close and looked at him in pure love and adoration. “Was hoping to bathe you, feed you truffles, pamper you…After this. You up for that?”</p><p>Aziraphale nearly melted into a puddle. He always loved when Crowley was romantic like this. “I would love nothing more, Crowley. Now let’s get a wiggle on, I do indeed need to, ah, urinate.”</p><p>They both laughed at the reality of bodily functions. The stickiness of sweat, flush skin from lovemaking, the lube drying between their legs, having to pee almost immediately after sex…To be truly vulnerable together and take pleasure in every part of what it means to be human. They both were on cloud nine as they walked hand in hand to the bathroom, naked as they came into this world.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>+ + + + </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After a proper pampering, they made themselves at home on the couch. It was three in the afternoon—Crowley had taken his sweet time making sure his angel was properly taken care of. Aziraphale had not yet told Crowley about their dinner reservations and was glad that they had plenty of time to rest. Crowley was comfortably nestled in Aziraphale’s arms. Aziraphale pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead and ran his fingers through his damp hair. The scent of eucalyptus and lavender filled the air.</p><p>“Would you like your second birthday surprise, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“Only if we don’t have to get up for a while. You’re comfy,” Crowley answered.</p><p>“No we don’t, I assure you. Crowley, dearest, I would like you to close your eyes and sink into my warmth. I simply want you to listen and take in what I wish to share with you,” Aziraphale replied.</p><p>Crowley nuzzled in closer, closed his eyes and breathed in Aziraphale’s scent. He loved the way Aziraphale’s brown sweater felt against his skin. Soft and soothing. Aziraphale was truly his home at this point. Nothing and no one made him feel so safe and loved.</p><p>Aziraphale picked up his smartphone from the end table and began to play a background track. It was low, but loud enough for Crowley to hear it. He couldn’t help but grin. That familiar tune that Aziraphale was humming this morning was swimming around him. As Crowley took in the background music, Aziraphale began to sing:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I was born to love you<br/>With every single beat of my heart<br/>Yes, I was born to take care of you<br/>Every single day of my life<br/><br/>You are the one for me<br/>I am the man for you<br/>You were made for me<br/>You're my ecstasy<br/>If I was given every opportunity, ah<br/>I'd kill for your love<br/><br/>So take a chance with me<br/>Let me romance with you<br/>I'm caught in a dream<br/>And my dream's come true<br/>It's so hard to believe<br/>This is happening to me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I want to love you<br/>I love every little thing about you<br/>I want to love you, love you, love you<br/>Born to love you<br/>Born to love you<br/>Yes, I was born to love you<br/>Born to love you<br/>Born to love you<br/>Every single day, day, day, day, day of my life</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley wiped tears from his eyes. He’d always loved hearing Aziraphale’s beautiful tenor voice. But the fact that he was singing a Queen song made his heart swell. Queen! How did Aziraphale figure out that Crowley had been singing “I Was Born to Love You” in the shower and when he got dressed? Aziraphale had never once asked him what it was! It was wholly unexpected, and one of the sweetest gifts he’d ever received.</p><p>“You sap,” Crowley choked out.</p><p>Aziraphale held Crowley tighter. “Dear boy, I believe with all of my heart that I was born to love you and care for you. I must admit I really do not know how I got along all of these years without you in my life. I know how much you enjoy ‘The Queens’ and I felt it expressed my love for you perfectly. Thank you for taking a chance with me, Crowley.”</p><p>Crowley bit back the desire to tease Aziraphale about getting the band name wrong. Instead, he basked in the sweet, sincere expression of love. “Dunno how I got so lucky, angel. But I love every little thing about you. Hope you never forget that.”</p><p>“I cannot imagine a day when I would forget it. You are always the brightest ray of light in every day. No day in my life could ever be pure darkness now that I have you. And I shan’t ever take you for granted,” Aziraphale responded.</p><p>“C’mere, you bastard,” Crowley gently coaxed Aziraphale to lay down on the couch. Aziraphale pulled the tartan blanket over them, and they held each other close. Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley’s bony chest and listened to his heartbeat. Crowley whispered words of praise and love, and Aziraphale slowly drifted off to sleep in the comfort of his beloved’s arms.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Dove, I think it’s time to get up. Must be hungry by now,” Crowley said gently.</p><p>Aziraphale rubbed his eyes and looked up at Crowley. “Mmm…I am rather peckish. What time is it?”</p><p>“Six,” Crowley answered.</p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Oh no, their reservation was coming up soon! How in the goodness gracious did he sleep so long?! He sat up quickly and nearly smacked Crowley in the face with his flailing.</p><p>“What’s wrong? You okay?” Crowley asked in a concerned tone.</p><p>“Well, the final part of your birthday and Valentine’s gift begins at seven, and we will need to get a wiggle on to get there in time! I don’t want to miss our reservation!”</p><p>Crowley gave him a confused look. “Wait, where’re we going? What’s going on?”</p><p>Aziraphale fiddled with his pinky ring. “Well, I was able to get us a reservation to a rather delightful place. I thought we’d try Georgios Petronius’ new restaurant. I hear he does remarkable things to oysters. My congregants have been raving about him, especially Kora and Adelaide. And, as you know, they truly know a good restaurant when they try it,” Aziraphale answered.</p><p>“I’ve never eaten an oyster,” Crowley replied.</p><p>His angel beamed. “Oh, well, I’m tempting you to—no, that’s—that’s usually your job. But tonight it’s my turn.”</p><p>Crowley grinned. “I like it being your turn. Temptation accomplished, dove. I’ve always wanted to try ‘em, just never have gotten ‘round to it. What’s the dress code?”</p><p>“It’s an oyster bar, and a casual one at that. So we will not need to be dressed to the nines tonight. I hope that is okay with you.”</p><p>“‘Course it is. Honestly ‘m glad. You wore me out this afternoon and I don’t want to get all dolled up,” he responded.</p><p>Aziraphale blushed. “Well, I must say you sated me as well and I am rather relaxed. A little wobbly in the legs too, but that is neither here nor there. It is a fifteen-minute drive from here, so let’s get ready. I would prefer to get there fashionably early.”</p><p>“Need to make a phone call first, so you get started,” Crowley said.</p><p>As soon as Aziraphale closed the bedroom door, Crowley picked up his phone. He hadn’t been expecting the reservation—he thought Aziraphale wouldn’t mind getting takeout and having a quiet evening at home. Going to Petronius’ was more than welcome, of course. But now Crowley had to change his original plan, straightaway.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>As usual, Aziraphale couldn’t help but drink in the sight of Crowley’s impeccable taste in clothing. It warmed Aziraphale’s heart to see Crowley being himself. He loved how Crowley looked so free in his genderfluidity now.</p><p>Crowley was wearing a black blazer and a matching vest that fit his frame snugly. He had a dark gray shirt underneath and wore an interesting gray necktie-tassel thing. Aziraphale hadn’t the slightest clue what to call it, but that seemed fitting. Crowley wore his favorite belt that looked like a serpent, sinfully tight black jeans, and his favorite stilettos. To complete the look, he wore black aviator shades.</p><p>Aziraphale went for a blue button up, a cream and brown tartan bowtie, and brown slacks. He brought out his favorite pair of oxfords that he hadn’t worn in quite some time. Aziraphale thought about wearing a sweater over top, but he decided against it. He wanted to bask in the joy that was his finally flat chest. Crowley certainly approved and kissed his angel silly the moment he saw Aziraphale’s outfit.</p><p>They arrived at Petronius’ ten minutes early and were surprised that they were able to be seated immediately. It was a lively place. There were couples, friends enjoying a Pal-entine’s celebration, and individuals treating themselves to a nice meal. Everyone looked happy. The staff were genuinely smiling, folks were laughing, couples were touching. There were roses on every table, and the restaurant was decorated with hearts and streamers. Sure, the flowers were lovely. But they didn’t hold a candle to the Sundew he’d given Crowley that morning.</p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale were seated at a corner booth. Aziraphale had requested the most private spot in the restaurant. He wanted to enjoy his time with Crowley. And, hopefully, not have any congregants come and speak with them. As much as he loved his flock, Aziraphale wanted a romantic evening with his beloved.</p><p>“You mind if I send a quick text, angel? Promise it’s something good and not work,” Crowley asked.</p><p>“Of course, dear boy. This will give me time to look over all the scrummy choices on the menu!”</p><p>As Crowley shot off a text that appeared rather long, Aziraphale ogled the menu. Everything sounded delicious. He was over the moon that he could give Crowley a new experience. Yet another happy memory that they would have forever. Once Crowley was finished, Aziraphale pointed out what he thought they might like to try.</p><p>“Does the sampler sound amenable to you, Crowley? This way we can find out all of the remarkable things Petronius can do to an oyster.</p><p>“Let’s get the oyster stew to split too. Sounds good since it’s winter. Know you like a hearty stew,” Crowley smiled at Aziraphale. He took Aziraphale’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.</p><p>“You always remember what I love, dearest. Such an attentive partner, whatever did I do to deserve you?” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s cheek and put his head on his shoulder.</p><p>“Told you, you’re an angel. Always should be waited on hand and foot, ‘f you ask me. But Aziraphale, I should be asking what I did to deserve <em>you</em>,” Crowley replied.</p><p>Before Aziraphale could respond, their waiter came. They ordered and enjoyed lovely banter until their food arrived. When the stew and sampler came, they were shocked at the portions. It was more than they’d expected!</p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale took turns feeding each other. This time, Crowley made noises of pleasure as Aziraphale fed him. Turned out that Crowley <em>loved </em>oysters. The stew was to die for. The oyster sampler was divine. The texture, the taste, the seductive nature of having his love feed him…Aziraphale’s parishioners weren’t exaggerating when they said Petronius’ was remarkable. Crowley wouldn’t mind making this a regular date night spot.</p><p>As Aziraphale looked over the dessert menu, Crowley received a text. Perfect timing. Right after Aziraphale ordered, the restaurant went silent. It was almost eerily quiet, except for the whispers of other patrons.</p><p>Aziraphale’s attention turned to a woman in a flashy, floral dress. She had a sweet smile on her face, and she exuded love. Her hands were behind her back, possibly hiding something. When she made it to their table, Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe it. His favorite local musician. At their table. On Valentine’s Day. In front of all these people. How did Crowley know Aziraphale loved her?</p><p>Crowley put his arm around Aziraphale and pulled him close. “Happy Valentine’s Day, dove. Ready when you are, Ms. Steele,” Crowley said with a smile.</p><p>In a beautiful, soothing voice, Ms. Steele sang her heart out:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I'm, I'm so in love with you<br/>Whatever you want to do<br/>Is all right with me<br/>'Cause you make me feel so brand new<br/>And I want to spend my life with you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Let me say that since, baby<br/>Since we've been together<br/>Ooh<br/>Loving you forever<br/>Is what I need<br/>Let me be the one you come running to<br/>I'll never be untrue</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ooh baby<br/>Let's, let's stay together <br/>Loving you whether, whether<br/>Times are good or bad, happy or sad</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tears welled in Aziraphale’s eyes as he listened to her sing. He couldn’t believe Crowley had done this for him. It was the most incredible Valentine’s gift he’d ever received. But it only got better.</p><p>When Ms. Steele was finished crooning, Crowley spoke.</p><p>“Angel, I know we haven’t been together for long. Maybe I sound bloody foolish but I know I want to love you forever. Couldn’t imagine anyone ever taking your place. Would you…” Crowley swallowed hard and his hands shook. “Would you…Move in with me?”</p><p>“Oh Crowley, my darling. Yes, yes!” Aziraphale burst into tears and held Crowley tight.</p><p>Everyone in the restaurant began to cheer and clap. It felt surreal to be openly celebrating their love. After all the decades alone, the hiding, the loneliness…Aziraphale no longer had to keep it to himself. Crowley had set him free in so many ways. Before Crowley came into his life, such a public display of care would’ve terrified him. He would’ve been afraid of the potential ramifications. It wasn’t even that long ago when Aziraphale was nervous about the potential for violence when they went to the play. But now, months into their relationships, it didn’t matter to him anymore. He was no longer afraid. And he wanted <em>everyone </em>to know that Crowley was his, and he was Crowley’s.</p><p>“Ms. Steele, I think we’re ready for ‘em,” Crowley smirked at her. “Put your hand out, dove.”</p><p>Aziraphale did as Crowley requested. Ms. Steele put two keys in his hands. A key to the cottage and…A car key?</p><p>“Gonna teach you to drive, Aziraphale…Or get you lessons from somewhere else, if you’d rather do that. Need a car, angel. That way you can come ‘n go. Won’t need a taxi or the bus ever again. Got you a 2010 Volkswagen Beetle. Low mileage, perfect condition. Just screamed out ‘Aziraphale’ to me.”</p><p>Aziraphale clutched the keys tight in his fist and pulled Crowley towards him by his tie. Everyone whooped and hollered as Aziraphale kissed him passionately.</p><p>“I love you, Crowley. You have my heart forever, darling. And, yes, I do believe I would much rather receive lessons from a driving school. You’re a speed demon, you wily thing.”</p><p>“Guilty as charged,” Crowley chuckled and kissed Aziraphale again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Songs referenced:</p><p>Aziraphale sings "I Was Born to Love You" by Queen.</p><p>Ms. Steele sings "Let's Stay Together" by Al Green.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Pastor Fell tries to put out the fires Bishop Gabriel set while he was away.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Goodness gracious heavens almighty, I can't believe it's been over two months since I updated this fic. Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you've enjoyed the little one-shots I've done. </p><p>I love you all, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Comments are always cherished &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale was on cloud nine when he returned to work. He’d healed well and was rather fond of the dog earring on his chest. Crowley asked Aziraphale to move into the cottage and the reality was still sinking in. Aziraphale had only a small taste of living with someone he was deeply in love with, but that was under heartbreaking circumstances. This time it would be different. Once he finished his driving lessons and got his license, move-in would commence. He couldn’t wait! They’d come home to each other every night. They would be able to stay up late into the night, talking and bantering. They’d cook together or order delivery. Aziraphale would bring home blessed communion bread, and Crowley would tease him, tell him just how delicious Jesus was. The sweetest and funniest “blasphemy” that Aziraphale had ever known.</p><p>He was a bit concerned about their differences in the ways they kept their living spaces. Aziraphale kept things cluttered. He would often get so immersed in things that he wouldn’t have time to clean, let alone tidy up. His many angel mugs would be littered throughout the house, filled with varying amounts of cold tea. They were always begging and pleading to be washed and put away. Crowley kept things immaculate. He’d never seen a place taken care of so well by a single person. But he’d learned that cleaning was Crowley’s way he kept his anxiety to a minimum. The poor dear had a lot of anxiety, though was rather good at pretending he didn’t. Maybe Aziraphale’s more constant presence could change it a little. Overall, Aziraphale had complete faith that they would make it work. Maybe they could arrange a cleaning schedule. Aziraphale did like to schedule his time outside of work; the life of a pastor only had so much of a schedule, after all.</p><p>He had also hoped that Gabriel wouldn’t cause too much damage while he was away. Perhaps a few small flames would have to be put out. Unfortunately, Aziraphale came back to a wildfire. When Aziraphale looked at his work phone, his face went pale. Multiple texts, emails, and calls from congregants. He winced when he listened to the voicemails and read the texts and emails. It wasn’t just one or two folks; it was at least a dozen.</p><p>Aziraphale called the folks who left the most alarming messages first: Susan, Newt and Anathema, and the most heartbreaking of them all: Beau and their family.</p><p>So it began with Susan.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale met Susan at her shop. Susan closed the shop so they would not be disturbed during his pastoral care visit. She led him to the back room and made him some tea. In typical Susan fashion, she jumped right into conversation.</p><p>“So I met someone a while back. I wanted to talk to you before you left but I didn’t know where he and I stood until you left. Pastor Fell, I knew I should’ve listened to my gut and talked to you, but I didn’t! Wasn’t trusting the Holy Spirit enough, was I?” she said as she set down his mug of tea.</p><p>Aziraphale took a sip and waited for Susan to sit down. She fiddled with her mug. She didn’t take her eyes off of his. He could tell she was anxious; her hand gestures and movements always tipped Aziraphale off.</p><p>“Susan, some conversations take us time to be ready for. Perhaps the Holy Spirit was nudging you, but regardless of the reason, sometimes it is too much to handle at a given moment. Do you feel ready to talk with me now?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>Susan nodded in an exaggerated fashion and sighed. “Since you were gone, I went to Bishop Gabriel. I thought that he’d be like you. Since he’s a Beloved Disciple, I figured that he would listen like you do…Should probably talk about the lovely man I met first though. None of this is going to make a lick of sense to you if I don’t start there.”</p><p>Susan pulled out her phone and scrolled through her pictures. She slid the phone to Aziraphale. He was a little surprised by what he saw. Not in a negative way; it was simply unexpected. The man in the picture was wearing a cornette<a href="#_ftn1" id="_ftnref1" name="_ftnref1">[1]</a> and a full habit. The cornette was white, and the rest of his habit was a dark green. Colors symbolizing hope, life, and growth within Christianity. He was wearing a large heart necklace with a cross at its center. Aziraphale hadn’t seen a practicing man of this faith tradition since he was a child. He couldn’t help but smile fondly at the image.</p><p>“Nun in the Order of Christ’s Lovers?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“Yes! How did you know that?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “When I was young, there was a nunnery in the town my family vacationed in. My mother and grandmother permitted me to go to their rituals. Always such a welcoming group of believers, and such sweet Husbands and Wives. I must admit, however, that I have always found it fascinating that they all refer to themselves as nuns.”</p><p>“Me too! I didn’t know that was a thing. His name is Husband Derek. I met him in October at the Union County Florist Expo. I never have a booth, by the way. I just like to get ideas and talk shop. Oh! You should tell Crowley about it! I bet everyone would love seeing…”</p><p>“Crowley’s pronouns are she/hers today,” he replied. He then waited patiently for her to get the train back on the right track. One of the things he loved about her was how she would go on a tangent before getting back to the story she was telling.</p><p>After fifteen minutes of talking about how much she appreciated the Crowley method and all the people who used it, Susan came back around to the original story. “Sorry about that! Anyway, so about Husband Derek. I saw this guy in a funny hat and a green robe. I’d never seen anything like it before. And you know me, I introduced myself and just had to go and ask him what his getup was all about. He invited me to have dinner with him after the day’s events so he could answer all my questions and get to know me. It was really nice. <em>He’s</em> really nice,” she said with a dreamy smile.</p><p>Aziraphale knew that smile all too well. It reminded him of the ones that bloomed on his face every time he thought of his beloved Crowley.</p><p>She continued. “…So that began our friendship. Pastor Fell, I was smitten after our conversation. It wasn’t just how nice Husband Derek is. It was his beliefs and patience with my question after question. He didn’t even care that I had a zillion questions for him! He literally was with me for <em>hours</em>. Every time we talk, it’s like that still. Hours go by on the phone and when we’re together and I don’t even notice. We talk after his morning prayers and after his evening prayers. He works for a florist and makes the loveliest bouquets. Do you see that one over there?” Susan pointed to a lovely arrangement.</p><p>He was in awe of how beautiful it was. Pink lilies, red roses, and red carnations in a beautiful pink vase. Aziraphale could feel the love radiating from it. Husband Derek was clearly in love with Susan, as she was with him. The flowers said it better than words ever could. What made it perfect was that flowers were a language they both understood, perhaps even surpassing English.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, I just have to come out and say it. I love Husband Derek and am thinking about asking him to move here. But…There’s some concerns I have. Religious ones. It’s why I went to Bishop Gabriel. Now, I just don’t know what I should do,” Susan sighed. The moment Bishop Gabriel’s name left her lips, her smile wilted.</p><p>“Susan, what are your religious concerns that brought you to Bishop Gabriel? If you are comfortable sharing, of course. Please do not feel pressured to respond,” he said.</p><p>“That’s why I wanted you to come…Well, you see, I grew up in a denomination where you’re only supposed to marry people within it. Our marriages were only approved of by God if we stuck with our own kind. All those words came back to me and it scared me. What if Husband Derek and I decide to marry and our church wouldn’t approve of it? I don’t know what I’d do without the Beloved Disciples, and I can’t handle the thought of losing my faith home…If I’d even considered this as a kid, I would’ve been banned from worshipping with everyone. And then…Well, he’s <em>Husband </em>Derek. Would he be… Cheating on Jesus if he was with me? Would we be polyamorous? I’m not saying it’s bad, Pastor Fell. But is the church okay with that? Would God be okay with that?”</p><p>Aziraphale was saddened to hear about her worries that their love was not acceptable to the church and to God. He remembered those beliefs from his own past. The Holy Logos were very strict about such things, though Aziraphale left those views behind when Christopher died and he was exiled. Aziraphale now believed that God only cared about healthy, loving relationships, not adherence to a strict doctrine. It was certainly the case with his relationship with his darling Crowley.</p><p>She took a few breaths and then continued. “I wrote down my worries and met with Bishop Gabriel. When I told him about Husband Derek and about our different Christian traditions, the first thing he said was that Husband Derek is in a cult. Bishop Gabriel said it wasn’t natural for a man to cover his head like he does or call himself a nun. He said that as Beloved Disciples, we had to be careful to avoid cults and condemn them. Pastor Fell, he said the Order of Christ’s Lovers are worse than the Devilists!” Susan exclaimed. He could feel the pain in her voice.</p><p>“When I said that Husband Derek was a kind man and was really devoted to Jesus, Bishop Gabriel just said the same thing over again. He warned me that if I didn’t get out of this relationship now that my soul was doomed. Jesus would turn His eyes from me. I’d be brainwashed and would be the lost sheep that Jesus wouldn’t bother to look for…Is that, is that true?” she asked.</p><p>Aziraphale was doing his best to keep calm. He didn’t want to show his anger and scare her. But if he could give Bishop Gabriel a stern talking to—and perhaps a hearty smack with his massive study Bible—Aziraphale definitely would. It especially angered him, given the pure hypocrisy of Bishop Gabriel’s statement. Of all people to condemn love and terrify Susan…</p><p>He reached out and took her hand. “No, no, Susan. That most certainly is <em>not </em>true. Bishop Gabriel should never have said that to you, and I am deeply sorry that you are struggling because of his words. Husband Derek is not in a cult; he is a Christian in a long-established tradition, beginning with the early mystics. He is not brainwashed in his faith, and you will not become brainwashed. And Susan,” Aziraphale gently squeezed her hand. “I want you to remember that no matter what happens in life, Jesus’ love and presence never ceases. Jesus would never forget you. You are most certainly not a lost sheep. If you were, I know without a doubt that you would be found and brought back to the flock.”</p><p>Susan squeezed his hand back. “Thank you, Pastor Fell. But is Husband Derek doing the wrong thing, being a nun? Can men cover their heads and be accepted? And is being with me going to mean he’s cheating? Bishop Gabriel seemed to think everything about this relationship is sinful, and I’m scared.”</p><p>Aziraphale decided to flip the switch. No telling this time; Susan needed to answer these questions on her own.</p><p>“I recall you saying how much you appreciate Husband Derek’s beliefs, Susan. Regarding these questions you have, may I ask if the two of you have had a conversation about these subjects? If you have, I encourage you to think about what this means to you.”</p><p>Susan thought for a moment. Her eyes lit up and she spoke enthusiastically. “Oh yes, we actually did a few days ago. I was worrying up a storm but I didn’t want him to know. I already knew about the head covering meaning—humility and modesty, and he only removes it when he is alone—but not why he did it as a guy. Husband Derek told me that he knows that Paul only mentions it about women. But for the Order of Christ’s Lovers, gender doesn’t matter. Didn’t matter to Jesus. They cover up so much because they believe their bodies should only be seen by Him and people that believers fall in love with…Come to think about it, I guess that means he’s not cheating on Jesus then. I should probably ask him if it’s polyamory, but that would be okay. The three of us are together anyway, when I think about it…”</p><p>She smacked her forehead. “How did I not even think of this? I was so caught up in being afraid that my mind went blank! The past few weeks I’ve heard Bishop Gabriel’s words over my partner’s…Pastor Fell, I should’ve gone to you first. If I had, I wouldn’t have felt so shitty about all this! I feel stupid that I let what he said make me doubt my relationship,” Susan looked down into her tea.</p><p>“Susan, I must say that you are not stupid. You may feel that way, but do not beat yourself over this matter. Bishop Gabriel’s response does not fit our values as Beloved Disciples. We welcome and encourage people to embrace and celebrate their love. Husband Derek is a Christian, just as you are. And even if he was not, I assure you that God would not be concerned with such a thing. Unless he was a Devilist, of course. That completely contradicts Christian teaching.</p><p>“I want you to know that you are not alone in this. My partner, Crowley, is agnostic. She believes that there probably is Someone up there but she does not identify as Christian. We do not always see eye to eye. But we have a lovely relationship with healthy communication, theological discussion, and she reminds me every day that love comes in many shapes and forms. Your love for Husband Derek is something precious to be enjoyed. Love and be loved in return.”</p><p>Susan gave Aziraphale a big smile. “You know what, Pastor Fell? We’re going on a date tonight, and I’m going to ask him to move here with me! I’ll let you know on Sunday how everything went!”</p><p>“I will be praying that he will say yes. I look forward to meeting the kind fellow,” he replied.</p><p>As Aziraphale was leaving the shop, Susan grabbed him by the arm. He spun around, a little surprised by her touch. “Something else, Susan?”</p><p>“Yes…I was wondering if there’s some higher up people I could complain to about how Bishop Gabriel treated me? You said it yourself, the stuff he said doesn’t go with our beliefs. If no one else will say that he sucks, then I will!”</p><p>He couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, the Beloved Disciples has a Council in which you can express your concerns and experiences. I will send you the information when I get home this evening.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The next day, Aziraphale woke up to find his work phone blown up with texts and voicemails. All from Newt. They had planned to meet later in the week, but it was clear that Newt could not wait. Whatever Bishop Gabriel had done left a terrible impression. From the anxiety and desperation in Newt’s voice, Aziraphale suspected that whatever happened was affecting his relationship with Anathema. He certainly wasn’t in the business of fixing marriages and relationships—Aziraphale could offer support and advice, but he couldn’t kiss a wound and make it better.</p><p>Aziraphale let out a long, drawn out sigh. He was still tired from the several visits with congregants, but he couldn’t stop to rest. This week would be 10+ hour days. He had no doubt that by Sunday afternoon, he’d collapse in Crowley’s arms—if not sooner.</p><p>“‘S wrong, angel?” Crowley asked as she brought Aziraphale a cup of tea and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Aziraphale graciously accepted Crowley’s offering as he sank further into the couch. Crowley had a few minutes before she had to head to work, and she always took advantage of every second she had with him.</p><p>Aziraphale closed his eyes and sighed again. “Oh dear girl, you were so very right about Bishop Gabriel mucking things up when I was away. Yesterday I visited with Susan, then Kora and Adelaide…I cannot tell you what happened in my visit with Susan, as it is not public news. Kora and Adelaide, on the other hand, lost their beloved Jimmy Bird while I was away. Everyone is aware, as they shared it during joys and sorrows.”</p><p>Crowley frowned. “The African Grey? Remember he was a sassy one. I always loved bringing our broken down cardboard for him to destroy. Sucks to lose a family member like that.”</p><p>“Indeed it does, dear girl. What makes it worse is what Bishop Gabriel said about it. Adelaide already has told anyone who would listen, so I do not deem this to be private…Since I was not present, they asked Bishop Gabriel if he would come over and lead a small memorial service when they buried Jimmy Bird. It was important to Kora to have a minister lead it; ritual is very important to her,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>“Well, what’d that arsehole say ‘bout their request?”</p><p>“He used Ecclesiastes 3:21—I must admit, I had to look it up—and it says ‘<em>Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?</em>’ Bishop Gabriel said because we do not know where beasts like Jimmy Bird go that there is no point in conducting a memorial service. He believes that it is a fruitless endeavor and is a privilege only afforded to humans…So, I suppose it is rather needless to say that I will be performing a memorial service on Saturday evening to send off Jimmy Bird. In fact, the Beloved Disciples have a ritual for pets. Unfortunately, Bishop Gabriel’s adherence to the beliefs of the Church of the Blessed Disciples has not wavered. They were adamant that only humans had souls; once an animal has passed, they do not join us in the afterlife.”</p><p>“What a load of shite…How in the bloody hell can that wanker believe that? Y’know if I had my way I’d rip him to shreds with that precious King James of his,” Crowley snarled.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “However, I must say that there is some good that has come out of this atrocious behavior. Kora and Adelaide called the Council and filed a scathing complaint. I do so hope that enough of my congregants will voice the pain he caused them to the Council. Perhaps a proper investigation will begin,” Aziraphale said, his voice filled with a glimmer of hope.</p><p>“Gonna have to tell me more ‘bout this Council when we’ve got more time, dove. Sorry to run, but I’ve gotta get to work. Text me with what you want for dinner tonight and when you know what time you’ll be at the apartment. I love you,” Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek.</p><p>“I love you too, my darling. Give Bessie the largest deer leg you have, and send my well wishes,” he responded.</p><p>===</p><p>An hour later, Aziraphale went downstairs and into Anathema’s shop. She closed up for the morning, and Newt took the day off work. Whatever happened was worse than he’d anticipated. Aziraphale’s heart raced when he walked in. The room was filled with tension. It was so thick that Aziraphale nearly choked on it.</p><p>“Sit down, right there,” Anathema ordered. She was clearly angry with Aziraphale, though he was unsure as to why.</p><p>Aziraphale said nothing and took a seat. Anathema sat across from him, and Newt quietly took the seat next to her. She refused to look at Newt; her eyes were locked on Aziraphale. Newt’s face was red in frustration. He looked exhausted and stress was coming off him in waves.</p><p>Anathema grabbed a book off the ground. As she was flipping to a particular page, Aziraphale noticed it was a King James Bible. Once she found what she was looking for, she slammed it down on the table between them. He took out his old reading glasses and began to read the small print.</p><p><em>Oh fuck!</em> Aziraphale thought to himself as he read the passage.</p><p><em>Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing</em>. <em>(Ephesians 5:22-24)</em></p><p>“I decided to go to your church for a visit. I wanted to understand Newt’s Christianity better. Your bishop used this and said I’m supposed to submit to Newt! So <em>this </em>is what you believe, Aziraphale?! You always told me that your church accepted everyone and that women were equal. Why did you lie to me? Newt, you go here and you knew this the whole time! You’re just like all the Christians my family warned me about!” she spat.</p><p>Newt cut in. “For the last time, Anathema, I don’t believe that! I never have, and I never will. We are on the same footing and together in whatever comes. Why won’t you listen!”</p><p>She gave him a death glare. “If your bishop says this is what your church believes, how am I supposed to think otherwise?! And you refuse to leave and find another place to go! If you really believed like you say you do, you wouldn’t keep going!”</p><p>“Pastor Fell, please. Tell us what the Beloved Disciples believe. And what do you believe?” Newt pleaded. He was at the end of his rope.</p><p>Aziraphale paid close attention to what she was saying. She had every right to be angry. Her hurt and fear were valid. Gabriel was indeed the bishop. He was supposed to represent their faith better than even pastors. It wasn’t true in this case, but how could she possibly know! Newt’s hurt was valid too, of course. He had told her that it wasn’t what he believed. Aziraphale <em>knew </em>that Newt didn’t, and he knew that Anathema didn’t really believe that either. But it was also true that if the Beloved Disciples believed that way, then it would appear that Newt shared those values, too. Interfaith relationships were tricky as it was; but this, if it wasn’t addressed, could tear them apart.</p><p>Internally, Aziraphale was, yet again, fighting back his anger. How could Bishop Gabriel teach such things? How could he <em>believe </em>such things? As Aziraphale already knew, Bishop Gabriel was a Beloved Disciple in name only. Instead of behind the scenes, it was on display. The hurt of Bishop Gabriel’s beliefs were no longer reserved to him and Brother Francis; it now negatively impacted newcomers and his congregants alike. The realization felt like a punch to the gut and a slap in the face.</p><p>Aziraphale took a moment of silence to push his feelings to the background before he spoke.</p><p>“Anathema and Newt, I first must say that both of your feelings and hurts are understandable. I have empathy for the struggle you are facing, given my own history with Christian institutions throughout my life. Should you feel invalidated by anything I say, please interject. I do not wish to cause either of you harm. I will explain the Beloved Disciples’ beliefs about women, and we’ll take some time to discuss that before I get into my own beliefs about the matter. Which, I assure you, line up with what our denomination professes.</p><p>“The Beloved Disciples believe strongly in equality of people of all genders—men, women, those who are genderfluid, nonbinary, and everything else under the sun. In fact, the majority of pastors in our denomination are women. What’s drawn so many of us here is the belief that all people have God given gifts and they are not based on gender. Jesus had female disciples, even if they were not called disciples in the Gospels. We believe that they were, and we call them disciples. We follow Jesus’ teachings and example. Jesus listened to women. Women did not leave him for a second when he was on the cross. They were going to take care of his body. When he was resurrected, he called Mary Magdalene to be the first evangelist and share the Good News. Salome and Mary the mother of James and Joseph are also mentioned and were called to do the same. Jesus’ way is what is most important to read and reflect upon. We do not worship Paul. We are to remind ourselves that Paul is not the voice of the Divine…And, beyond scripture, it is basic human decency to believe that all are made in the image of God and are equal in Her sight and on Earth,” he answered. While he tried to keep an even tone, his voice was filled with passion and strength.</p><p>Newt breathed a sigh of relief and gave a small smile. He kept glancing at Anathema. She hadn’t looked at Newt at all during the conversation, and still was focused only on Aziraphale. But her body language was less tense, and the angry look on her face softened some.</p><p>“Okay, so you say the Beloved Disciples believe everyone is equal. And Jesus valued women…But that doesn’t explain Bishop Gabriel. What’s his deal? I’m not sure I buy it,” she said.</p><p>Aziraphale held back a sigh of frustration. He was not frustrated with Anathema; she was not—and never would be—the problem. The painful feelings bubbling up were all due to Bishop Gabriel. They often were.</p><p>“Anathema, Bishop Gabriel’s beliefs on this matter are not only out of line with our denomination; they are <em>wrong</em>. I am deeply sorry that you were subjected to these incorrect teachings. I was aware he was on the more conservative end of Christian belief; however, I did not know just how deeply he has held onto the beliefs of the denomination we split from. Should you wish to look them up, they are the Church of the Blessed Disciples,” Aziraphale lied; he was well aware that Bishop Gabriel was conservative but did not want to admit it. Not in a delicate situation like this.  </p><p>Both Anathema and Newt looked at Aziraphale in confusion.</p><p>“How did he become a bishop, then? If he doesn’t believe like we do and are supposed to?” Newt asked.</p><p>“Yeah, explain that,” Anathema chimed in.</p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t help the sadness that shown on his face. “I wish that I had a more constructive answer than what I am about to give you. Bishop Gabriel is quite skilled in organization and church leadership in the upper levels. He was never a pastor in our faith. Perhaps his skills of keeping things running smoothly has a role to play. He has also been rather good at hiding his true beliefs until he came to Tadfield Beloved Disciples during my medical absence. At any rate, he has done a considerable amount of damage, for which I am deeply sorry. This should have never happened,” he answered.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, those things have happened in so many places I’ve worked. Unbelievable sometimes. Seems like it happens everywhere, doesn’t it Anathema?” Newt asked her. She looked at him, rolled her eyes, and sighed.</p><p>“Everywhere! I’ve had a few employees who pulled the wool over my eyes too. Agnes always came through for me, though. She’d let me know and I’d let them go. She didn’t do that to you, Pastor Fell. Guess you’re legit,” Anathema said. She reached out for Newt’s hand, and he took it.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled at the display of affection. The tension was beginning to melt away. Newt’s comparison of a regular workplace seemed to help the reality of the situation sink in. He was grateful that Anathema and Newt were willing to bring him over and discuss what happened. He was relieved that they accepted his explanation of the Beloved Disciples and trusted him. There was one more thing that he wanted to address, however.</p><p>“You had asked earlier if you wanted to know what I believe? Would you like me to share?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>Anathema shook her head. “No, we know that you accept everyone. You accept Crowley and Crowley’s not even religious, and you haven’t batted an eyelash at me. And for goodness sake, you’re trans! I’m sorry for all of this. It just really struck a nerve. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Newt,” she said apologetically.</p><p>“I’m sorry I was so defensive. Guess we still have to keep working on the interfaith parts of this, huh?” Newt replied.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess we do. Do you and Crowley have stuff like this happen?” she asked Aziraphale.</p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle. “Good Lord, yes. We have difficult days as much as any interfaith relationship. We love each other dearly, just as you both love each other. But I must say, our conversations are often quite invigorating. Talking with Crowley always reminds me of why I’ve stayed a Christian and a pastor. And Anathema, I do hope that someday you come when I’m giving a sermon. I can assure you that such horrendous theological statements will not be said when I’m in the pulpit.”</p><p>“No doubt, Pastor Fell. I’ll visit again once the feelings die down more,” she answered.</p><p>Newt smiled at her before turning his attention to Aziraphale.</p><p>“Pastor Fell, is there a place that we can file a complaint? I asked Bishop Gabriel for his sermon manuscript and I have it. And given all the stress we’ve been through since he gave this sermon, I think we need to take it to a higher authority,” Newt asked.</p><p>“Well, ah, yes, there is. We have a Council that receives concerns and complaints. Someone needs to hold the Bishops accountable. I will give you the contact information this evening. Do take care, and please do not hesitate to contact me if there are questions about the Beloved Disciples or my own personal beliefs you have.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“You want me to join you ‘n Beau?” Crowley asked. He was sitting on a countertop, “supervising” Aziraphale and Bessie.</p><p>At this point, there was no need for him to do it; Bessie had fallen head over heels for Aziraphale. Quite frankly, she seemed to prefer him over Crowley. She’d already been fed and was begging for Aziraphale’s attention.</p><p>“This is a pastoral care situation, dear boy. Their parents asked me to meet with Beau first, and they will join us after an hour. I do not know what Bishop Gabriel did, but I must admit that I’m quite anxious. The Pontelliers have made such good progress, and I’m concerned they’ve regressed…Oh Bessie, don’t worry, you lovely thing. I haven’t forgotten you,” Aziraphale felt Bessie nuzzle his neck. He turned, gently cupped her jaw, and kissed her snout.</p><p>“Stop spoiling her, angel. ‘F you give her a bigger head than she’s already got we’re gonna have to raise the roof. Literally.”</p><p>Aziraphale giggled, and Bessie made a noise that sounded like an attempt to mimic Aziraphale. Bessie was getting smarter every day. Crowley was hopeful that the more he and Aziraphale spent time with her, the more “language” she’d pick up.</p><p>Crowley continued. “Do me a favor, angel.”</p><p>“Depends on what the favor entails, dear boy,” Aziraphale responded, keeping his eyes on Bessie.</p><p>“If there’s some genderfluid or nonbinary stuff that Beau needs to talk about, tell them I’m glad to come ‘round and listen. They may not want to talk religion with me, but I can still help,” Crowley said.</p><p>Aziraphale pressed one last kiss to Bessie’s snout and looked over at Crowley. He gave his beloved a warm smile. “That, my darling, is something I am beyond willing to do. I suppose I should head over to the café, now. Thank you for the suggestion of the Botanical Gardens to meet with them. Far safer to be in a wide-open space where everyone can see us. The last thing I need amidst all that is occurring this week is a potential misunderstanding,” he sighed.</p><p>Crowley hopped off the counter and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale. He pressed a kiss to his forehead and held him close. “It’s gonna be okay, angel. ‘F anyone can handle this, it’s you. And let me know if I need to take care of Gabey. Can make it look like an accident,” Crowley hissed.</p><p>Aziraphale melted in the embrace and let out a sigh. “Crowley, I am starting to seriously consider your offer, in light of this week’s events.”</p><p>===</p><p>Aziraphale was sitting in the Botanical Gardens café drinking some tea when he spotted Beau, Evelyn, and Vernon. Evelyn and Vernon looked worried, while Beau looked discouraged. Still, it was clear regardless of what Evelyn and Vernon were feeling that they cared. Evelyn was holding their hand, and Vernon had his hand on their back. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel some relief; he was afraid that the Pontellier’s would have turned on Beau. Perhaps that wasn’t a fair assessment, but Aziraphale had lived too much life to be anything but wary of cisgender, heterosexual parents.</p><p>He noticed that Beau was holding a book. He couldn’t make out what it was, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was what triggered the family’s distress.</p><p>“Pastor Fell!” Beau exclaimed as they gently broke away from their parents. Aziraphale was warmed by the look of hope that bloomed on Beau’s face. They rushed over to Aziraphale and gave him a hug.</p><p>“It is good to see you, dear one. Go and order whatever you’d like; I have a ‘tab’ of sorts open.”</p><p>Beau nodded and headed straight for the counter.</p><p>Vernon and Evelyn came up to Aziraphale. He sensed they were afraid; he knew they weren’t afraid of him, of course. He had an idea of what the problem was, but he just had to wait and see. They all shook hands, and Aziraphale gave them a soft smile.</p><p>“Evelyn and I will go for a walk and be back in about an hour. We thought it might be better if the two of you talk first before we come into the picture,” Vernon said.</p><p>“May I ask what is on your hearts before you take your leave?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“It might be too soon, but we’re worried about Beau’s future…Some things about them don’t line up with what we’ve been taught. Now we don’t know what to think,” she admitted.</p><p>“And sometimes, Pastor Fell, we miss our girl,” Vernon said softly.</p><p>Before Aziraphale could say something he’d regret, the two walked away hand in hand.</p><p>Once their parents left, Beau came over to the table. They had a Coke in one hand and a book in the other. They sat down and set it in front of Aziraphale. He picked it up and couldn’t help but sigh. Yet another binary teen devotional. Much to his dismay, it was “for girls.”</p><p>“Bishop Gabriel handed these out to all the teens when you were gone, Pastor Fell. There are ‘boy ones’ and ‘girl ones’,” Beau used air quotes, “and this is the one he gave me. I’m not a girl, and when I told him that he shook his head! He looked at mom and dad and said Genesis 1:27.”</p><p>“So God created human beings, making them to be like himself. He created them male and female,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but utter.</p><p>“I know. The Bishop wouldn’t even look at me when he said it. You know how my parents were raised. It really freaked them out. They made me take the girl one from Bishop Gabriel and we read it together at home. It’s all really awful, Pastor Fell. But there was one of them that really upset my parents and me. I marked it.”</p><p>Aziraphale opened the devotional and put on his reading glasses.</p><p>
  <em>God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them (Genesis 1:27 ESV). God created the first man. When He saw it was not good for man to be without companionship, He created the first woman. These two were designed to complement each other in every way, and it was good. At some point you’ll grow up, leave home, and fall in love. If you’re obedient, you will save yourself for marriage…</em>
</p><p>“Oh Good Lord!” Aziraphale couldn’t help but exclaim in disgust.</p><p>“The rest of it’s bad, but this has messed a lot of stuff up with my parents, Pastor Fell. My dad looks sad all the time. He says to my mom when he thinks I can’t hear that he misses his daughter…I…I don’t even know what I am now. I saw them praying over the Bible the other day. Not the version you gave them. The one we used before we met you…I haven’t really talked to them much since Bishop Gabriel gave us this,” Beau said, fiddling with the straw in their pop.</p><p>“Beau, while your parents’ feelings do matter, I am more concerned about <em>yours</em>. How are you feeling about all of this?”</p><p>They looked surprised. “You want to know how I feel, Pastor Fell? No one’s asked me…Not even mom and dad.”</p><p>“Only if you want to share, Beau. I will not press you to share if you are uncomfortable,” he answered calmly.</p><p>Inside, the anger box tucked away at the back of Aziraphale’s mind was getting close to overflowing. All he had dealt with this week was bad enough. But to see yet another young queer person struggling was difficult to handle. Beau’s parents didn’t even bother to ask them what they were feeling. They were so focused on themselves that they completely neglected the feelings of the person who was most affected. He wished he could give Vernon and Evelyn a lecture, then chase Bishop Gabriel out of the Beloved Disciples with a whip.</p><p>If Beau noticed any change in Aziraphale’s body language, they didn’t say anything. After a moment, they shared. “I hate that they listened to Bishop Gabriel more than me. Once he said something, it’s like a flip got switched. And once they got to this part of the devotional, they kind of just…Stopped talking to me. They go to work, come home, read the Bible, pray, and talk when they think I’m not listening. Why does the binary even matter, Pastor Fell? Why can’t they just accept me and not worry so much about what the Bible says!” Beau burst into tears.</p><p>Aziraphale quickly scooted his chair over and put an arm around Beau’s shoulder. Beau leaned into him and sobbed. He could feel his clerical shirt become wet with tears. Aziraphale prayed to God that he would have it in him to remain calm once Vernon and Evelyn returned. He knew they did not intend to hurt Beau, but it didn’t mean that their behavior was acceptable. The hard work the three of them had done was damaged, and Beau was the one who suffered most of all. An innocent, young nonbinary person who needed acceptance and support from their family. Yet another casualty in Bishop Gabriel’s queerphobic crusade.</p><p>“Beau, what’s wrong?!” Evelyn rushed over and got down on her knees. She took Beau’s hand and rubbed it soothingly. Vernon sat in the chair next to his wife and rubbed her back. He didn’t look at their child.</p><p>“You!” Beau said in between sobs. They weren’t looking at their parents; Beau’s face was still buried in Aziraphale’s damp shirt.</p><p>Evelyn sat back on her heels and looked down at the ground. Vernon’s gaze snapped to Beau, and his jaw went slack. If the situation wasn’t so heartbreaking for Beau, Aziraphale would’ve huffed and rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Why do you care more about what the Bible and the Bishop says than what I say?! You care more about the Bible than me!” Beau cried.</p><p>“Now that’s not fair, Beau. We love you more than anything and you know that,” Vernon said in a defensive tone.</p><p>“You and mom have been talking behind my back for two weeks! Pastor Fell’s the first person who asked how <em>I </em>feel!”</p><p>Evelyn and Vernon looked at each other in disbelief.</p><p>“W-what have you heard?” Evelyn asked, barely a whisper.</p><p>After a few minutes, Beau pulled away from Aziraphale. They grabbed a napkin from the holder and wiped their eyes and blew their nose. Aziraphale felt his heart break a little at the sight.</p><p>“You and dad keep reading those verses from Genesis and saying stuff that makes me feel like you think I’m dead. You never asked how that devotional and what Bishop Gabriel said made me feel. It’s always about you and dad. It’s never been about me,” their voice wavered.</p><p>“It’s not about us, sweetheart. It’s about your future…God made us and He has plans for us…We’ve been doing our best, but the Word says male and female. The Bishop reminded us of that, and we just don’t know how to reconcile this,” Evelyn shook her head.</p><p>“Well then ask Pastor Fell what he thinks if you don’t care about how I feel!” Beau snapped.</p><p>“We do care, Beau! Please stop saying we don’t care about your feelings!” Evelyn pleaded.</p><p>“Please, Pastor Fell, what are we supposed to do? This…We just don’t know. Scripture says male and female. What are we supposed to do with that? What if…” Vernon trailed off.</p><p>Aziraphale cut in. “Beau, if you would be willing, would you share with all of us what you think about all of this?”</p><p>He wanted Beau to be able to express themself. They needed and deserved to be heard.</p><p>“God doesn’t make mistakes. Mom and dad, God <em>made</em> me nonbinary. I don’t care if the Bible uses ‘male and female.’ It doesn’t matter! I <em>know </em>God made me like this. Look at Pastor Fell!” Beau gestured to Aziraphale. “God made him who he is. He’s happy like he is. I’m happy like I am. It’s just how God wants me to be. Will you please just listen to me instead?!”</p><p>Aziraphale and Beau watched at the gears turned in Evelyn and Vernon’s heads. It was barely a moment before Evelyn brought Beau into her arms.</p><p>“Yes you are, baby. You’re just as God made you to be. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” Evelyn kissed Beau’s head and wept.</p><p>As Evelyn and Beau held each other, Vernon stared at Aziraphale. He felt uneasy at the intensity of it, but Aziraphale maintained the eye contact. Vernon slowly got up, walked to Aziraphale, and pulled him into a hug.</p><p>“God never gave us a daughter? I don’t know what to do with that…I don’t understand when it goes against scripture…I need your help. Please help me understand,” Vernon whispered in Aziraphale’s ear. It was clear he finally understood that his personal feelings were best kept away from Beau.</p><p>“Just as I am here for Beau, so, too, am I here for you,” Aziraphale whispered back.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“How’d it go, dove?” Crowley asked when Aziraphale got in the car.</p><p>Aziraphale looked at Crowley with tired eyes. “I’m afraid I may have made things worse…All I can do is pray that Beau will be listened to.”</p><p>Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand in his as he drove. “Did the best you could. Even ‘f nothing’s fixed, you tried. You tell me all the time that we can’t fix anything for anyone else. Gonna give you the same wisdom. Beau knows you’ve got their back. That’s enough right now.”</p><p>Aziraphale wanted to cry, but his cup was empty. Days straight of putting out fires took all of his reserves away. He felt so small, so helpless. He felt defeated. The fires weren’t as large as they had been; maybe a few he’d been able to put out. But there were still many more. And the one he’d desperately wanted to put out altogether—Beau’s suffering—he could not.</p><p>As they drove back to the cottage, Aziraphale realized that he needed to go to his office. He hadn’t done any sermon research, given the events of the week, and he needed a few of his commentaries.</p><p>“Dear boy, would you mind going to the church for a moment? I know it’s out of the way, but I need a few of my books,” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“Course, s’not a problem,” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s hand.</p><p>Once they arrived, Aziraphale hurried into the church. He didn’t want to keep Crowley waiting. He fumbled with his keys until he found the one for his office. As he opened the door, the strong smell of fresh paint assaulted his nostrils. When he flicked on the lights and took in the sight in front of him. Aziraphale crumpled into a heap onto the floor.</p><p>He wailed and gnashed his teeth.</p><p> </p><p><a href="#_ftnref1" id="_ftn1" name="_ftn1">[1]</a> <a href="https://dcarchives.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/norris-mother-ann-simeon-150dpi.jpg">https://dcarchives.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/norris-mother-ann-simeon-150dpi.jpg</a></p>
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